


Horse

by trishabooms



Category: Supernatural RPF, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 68,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishabooms/pseuds/trishabooms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is set in an alternate future where slavery is legalised and state run. It's grim, angsty stuff dealing with man's inhumanity to his fellow man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horse

He woke to the bell as he always did. He was stiff as he climbed out of his cot and went to kneel obediently on the mat for inspection, body straight, eyes lowered, hands clasped behind his back.

He tried to ignore the stiffness, to forget how sore he was this morning. Preceptor Benz had had him beaten yesterday for an infraction. He wasn't sure what he'd done exactly, he knew better now than to ask. He'd already learned the very painful lesson that asking questions of your keepers was seen as arguing and punished severely. When his beating yesterday had been administered to her satisfaction and Preceptor Benz had left, the guard hadn't released him from the restraints right away, he'd used him instead, ridden him hard. It happened sometimes, was permitted on the understanding he wasn't damaged, he was Academy property after all.

The door to his cell was unlocked and opened but he didn't look up. Two sets of footsteps, the heavy boots of the guard and the softly-stepping white shoes of the nurse. He could recognise most of the staff he had contact with by their walk, he knew the guard was Baldwin and the nurse the little red head he had never seen smile. He waited for instruction as the guard circled him slowly, knowing what was coming next but careful not to anticipate and move too soon.

“Hands on the floor, horse.”

He went onto all fours, tried not to tense up as the nurse moved behind him. He felt her swab a patch of his ass where he was already black and blue before administering his morning shot. The needle didn't bother him too much, but the drug was more painful than usual going in, enough to make his eyes water. He'd hurt worse,  _so_  much worse, but there were days when he couldn't help wanting it all to stop. Then he remembered that trying to make the pain stop, for once and for all, was the reason he'd ended up here in the first place, and there were worse places. He remembered  _them_  too. He bit down on his bottom lip not wanting to make a noise, grateful neither of them could see his face.

The nurse left once she'd finished.

“Back onto your knees and stand up,” Baldwin instructed. “Let's get you showered, fed and ready. Three of the preceptors have already requested you for demonstrations, looks like you've got a busy day ahead, huh, horse?” he grinned.

He dried himself quickly and efficiently after his third shower of the day. A guard usually took him to shower after each session he took part in, gave him fresh scrubs afterwards, if clothing was required. He'd been naked for the last one, aching legs spread wide in stirrups while a class of younger trainees had taken it in turns to locate his prostate under the glacial guidance of Preceptor Joan Allen. He was grateful when it was over. They'd used plenty of lube on him, but he was already swollen and sore from the night before so it had hurt like hell anyway. 

He was always grateful for the showers, even if he never truly felt clean. He would have liked a shave today but he remembered he had another day to go. They didn't permit horses to shave every day, didn't remove any of their body hair the way they did with the trainees. They didn't actually permit _him_  to shave himself at all, the guards did it for him, occasionally a nurse. He wasn't allowed cutlery either, a plastic spoon was the closest he got and they still watched him like hawks.

“You daydreaming, horse?”

He dropped his eyes, turned to face the guard, grateful it was Affleck rather than Baldwin or, even worse; Holloway. Affleck was always patient with him. “No, sir,” he said quietly.

“Finish getting dry. Preceptor Benz has requested you next and I'm thinking you don't want to piss her off again.”

“No, sir,” he repeated.

He hurried to do as he'd been told, presenting himself for inspection once he was finished.

“You're fine.” Affleck handed him a set of pale blue scrubs. “Put these on, quick now. Lesson starts in five minutes.”

  
He was half hard almost all the time, painfully hard for the rest. Must be something in the drugs they gave him; the daily shot or the pills. They required him to be highly responsive, and he supposed he was. He sat in the chair in front of the class, trying to catch his breath after the blow job he'd just had. It was his first dry ejaculation of the day, he couldn't always come in the conventional sense, and it had been hard and painful. He didn't like too many of those. He was grateful for the break while the class critiqued the technique of the student who'd given it. She was a pretty thing, fourteen or so, long dark hair, big brown eyes. She'd soon be snapped up by a master or mistress. Most of this class would be in Escrow sooner rather than later. There were always visitors coming in now to view them.

There were two women today, He’d noticed as they stood at the back of the room watching. They were accompanied by Mr Fox, the administrator. One of them, the older of the two, was looking at _him_. He dropped his eyes quickly, not wanting to get in trouble again. These must be important women, rich, if they had Mr Fox with them.

Matthew Fox's voice, as he droned on and on about slave quality and training standards at the Roche Academy, was boring Cate to distraction. She tuned him out, smile on automatic, and let Reese deal with him. Reese was the one here to buy after all. Cate was simply along for moral support. 

It had been eighteen months since Reese lost her body slave, Joshua, to leukaemia. The two of them had been a devoted couple, as much in love as any two young people could be. Sadly, today's society didn't see them as equals, refused to accept or understand the love of a slave and master in anything other than the broadest of terms. Polite society dictated that she move on, take another slave, didn't recognize that she was in mourning for a lost love. The Witherspoon family, old money like her own, were equally uncompromising.

Cate studied the training room, found that she was watching the  _lesson_  that was taking place with fascination and a growing sense of horror that she hoped to heaven wasn't reflected in her jaw aching smile. 

Her eyes were drawn to the man sat in the chair on the raised dais. Hard not to look at someone wearing nothing more than a blue top receiving a skilled and enthusiastic blow-job. She'd assumed, at first, that he must be an employee of the Roche Academy, he was so much older than the trainee body slaves, mid thirties at a guess, but looking at him now, as he fought to recover himself while the class discussed the merits of the blow job, she realised she was wrong. 

He hadn't made any kind of move to cover himself afterwards and she could see what looked like bruises on his thighs, distinct, dark marks that  _had_  to be bruising, around his wrists and ankles, and his body language... She didn't need her psychology degree to see how submissive the man was. Not simply submissive, he was cowed, afraid.

She suddenly realised what she was seeing. She'd heard stories of course, but...

She turned to Matthew Fox, cutting in on whatever he was saying to Reese. “You have a...” She paused at the word, almost unable to bring herself to say it. “A horse, is that the term you use?”

Fox gave her that infuriatingly smooth smile of his. “We have two, Lady Blanchett. A male and a female. The female was disfigured in the car crash that killed her master, it left her unsaleable. The male here is a recaptured runaway who attempted to damage himself after he was returned to his master.

“A horse?” Reese shook her head, confusion written all over her pretty face. “I don't know that I'm familiar with that term.”

“All horses are former body slaves, now used solely for training purposes,” Fox explained.”We use the term horse because it's necessary for them to be broken-in to this kind of service. We use slaves who have no value, other than perhaps in teaching hospitals or in one of our Roche laboratories. So although it's a somewhat brutal process, we feel we're giving them a slightly better quality of life than they would have had as a test subject. And of course their training as a body slave isn't wasted.”

Reese's attention was now focused on the man, her eyes wide. “I-I never heard of such a thing. He seems very... cooperative.”

“He does, doesn't he,” there was no lack of pride in Fox's voice. “Despite being punished for both of his transgressions he was still quite spirited when we acquired him. We decided to experiment with a more prolonged and rigorous period of conditioning than we'd used on a subject before. We're very happy with the results.”

“He's drugged, isn't he?” Cate asked.

“Very observant, Lady Blanchett. Yes he is. Roche have developed a cocktail of drugs that ensure he's cooperative but don't prevent him from being responsive. They also enhance his stamina and of course his necessary physical functions. We're continually experimenting to refine the cocktail and the dosage, with a view to doing trials to see if we can, eventually, market the treatment. We’re working to ease the strain the current drug regime, coupled with our conditioning techniques, puts on the heart, so we can extend the working life of the horse.”

“I'd like to meet him,” Cate said quietly, her eyes drawn back to the man in the chair.

Fox's smile flickered a little. “I beg your pardon, Lady Blanchett.”

“I would like to meet your horse, Mr Fox.” She looked him in the eye. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No, of course not.” The broad smile was back in force. “If you'd like to follow me.”

As they moved forward from the back of the classroom, catching the eye of the female instructor, the lesson was halted. The entire class, including the horse, moved gracefully to their knees.

They moved to the dais where the instructor was waiting, her painted smile as practised as Fox's.

“Lady Witherspoon, Lady Blanchett, may I present our senior instructor, Preceptor Benz.”

“Welcome to the Roche Academy ladies.” She was a pretty, petite blonde, not the sort of woman you'd expect to be giving lessons in blow-jobs to pre-teens. “How may we be of help to you this afternoon?” 

“The ladies are here to hopefully select a new body slave for Lady Witherspoon,” Fox explained.”Lady Blanchett has expressed an interest in our horse.”

“The horse?” The woman couldn't hide her surprise.

“What's his name?” Reese asked her. “It doesn't seem right referring to him as horse all the time.”

“Horses aren't allowed the luxury of a name, Lady Witherspoon,” the woman answered. “Part of their conditioning is the loss of their identity. They are here only to obey and to serve.” She turned cornflower blue eyes on Cate. “May I inquire what your interest is Lady Blanchett?”

“Curiosity more than anything else.” Was that really true, she wondered. “Although I'd heard that horses were in use I've never come across one before. As a psychologist I admit to being fascinated.” 

“Not everyone is altogether comfortable with their use,” Preceptor Benz admitted. “We've been experimenting with their use here at the Roche Academy for some time now and consider them an invaluable training aid. We're hoping to extend their use to all our US Academy's. We already have new subjects completing their conditioning phase.”

The woman's enthusiasm made Cate's skin crawl. “May I?” She asked, wanting a better look at the kneeling man.

“Of course, Lady Blanchett, go ahead,” Fox told her.

“Would you like him to stand?” the woman asked.

Cate nodded. “Yes, I would.”

“On your feet, horse.” The preceptor's voice lost its girlish tones when she snapped out the order.

He moved as gracefully as any body servant she'd ever seen, flowing smoothly and quickly into a standing position, head bowed, arms by his sides. He was taller than Cate had first realised. She placed her hand beneath his chin, gently encouraging him to raise his head. He didn't resist in the slightest but she could feel him tremble beneath her touch before she moved her hand away. She was surprised to see he had a fairly heavy stubble of beard. His face was strong, handsome, but that made sense if he'd been a body slave before, they were chosen for their looks after all. 

He kept his eyes lowered but they looked quite beautiful beneath his thick, curling lashes. He was broad across the chest, surprisingly strong looking. She presumed they insisted on some kind of exercise regime to keep him fit. Ridiculous when, up this close, she could see just how bad the bruising she had noticed from the back of the room truly was. Harsh lines, from either a whip or a cane of some kind, curled around to the front of his bare legs. It was recent bruising, just turning from red to purple. There were others; finger print bruises on his neck and throat beneath the pale blue of the scrub top he was wearing, some purple, some already yellowing. The man had to be in pain. 

She couldn't help but notice something else too; despite what the girl had just done to him he was already well on his way to being erect once more.

“I see you've noticed his state of arousal.” The woman, Preceptor Benz, gave her a knowing smile. “His refractory time is quite remarkable.”

Fox nodded. “We've been using the horse to test a combination of Sildenafil and a new drug Roche is developing to combat male infertility. The results have been very encouraging, as you can see. His conditioning helps, of course. We plan to trial the drug combination on other test subjects. If trials are successful then it's something we're considering for future use in body servants.”

“I can't say I like that idea,” Reese admitted. “A good body servant is more than a mere sex slave. They need skills, an education...”

“Of course they do Lady Witherspoon. I'm not denying that for an instant, but surely the perfect body servant needs to be able to please his or her master whenever they're required. It's not just about a pretty face...”

Cate turned to look at the - so called horse again, as Reece continued to argue politely with Matthew Fox. He was clearly aware that he was the topic of conversation. She could see that it made him uncomfortable, she doubted that this kind of debate and attention ever boded particularly well for him. She couldn't imagine being forced to live out your life like this. She wondered how aware he was, whether he was too drugged to fully understand what was happening to him or if he understood all too well. 

As if he sensed her scrutiny, he raised his head a little. His feverishly bright eyes slowly lifting and meeting hers. In that moment that their eyes met she saw the awareness she had wondered about, saw the pain and the fear reflected there, and she knew she had to do something, had to help this man somehow.

“He really is  _quite_  beautiful,” Cate admitted, honestly. She was sure she was probably making the biggest mistake of her life but she had to do  _something_. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, before she could over-think this whole thing and change her mind. “How much will you take for him?”

“Take for him, Lady Blanchett?” Fox shook his head. She wasn't sure if she'd surprised him or if he simply wasn't certain of what she'd said. “I don't...” 

“He was trained as a body slave, was he not?” She asked the man.

“Yes,” Fox nodded. “But...”

She met his eyes, hiding her uncertainty behind a haughty smile. “I'd like to buy him.”

The instructor began to shake her head. “He's not for sale, my Lady, he...”

“With all due respect,” Fox cut in. “I'd ask you to look at your motives, Lady Blanchett. Perhaps take some time to think this...”

“ _Is_  he for  _sale_?” Cate asked him.

“He's a horse,” Preceptor Benz snapped at her, the woman clearly had a temper. “He's  _totally_ unsuitable...”

Cate ignored her, let her eyes ask the question of Matthew Fox instead. “Well?"

“The Roche Academy prides itself on fulfilling the wishes of its clients,” he told her. “If you wish to purchase him then we're happy to sell him.”

“Sell him!” The Benz woman was furious.

“I repeat, Lady Blanchett,” Fox aimed a withering glare at the instructor. “We have  _no_  objection to this slaves purchase. Perhaps we should continue this somewhere a little more private,” he suggested, smoothly.

Cate nodded. “I think that would be more appropriate.”

Fox smiled. “Lady Witherspoon, would you allow me to furnish you with another escort whilst Lady Blanchett and I have our chat?”

“Yes, of course, that would be fine.” She smiled back at him.

“Reese,” Cate suddenly felt incredibly guilty. She'd come here to help her friend “I'm so sorry! We came here for you, and I...”

Reese shook her head, taking Cate's hand in hers and squeezing gently. “You have no need to apologise, Cate. I assure you. This is a purchase I wholeheartedly approve of. Go and deal with the business side. I'll finish my tour and meet you later.”

“Thank you,” Cate smiled.

Fox signalled to a blue uniformed man standing discreetly in the corner of the room.

“With your permission, Lady Blanchett, I'll have Affleck here take him out of the room, see that he's showered and shaved, ready for your inspection.”

He went with Affleck when the guard took his arm. His head was spinning trying to take in the conversation, understand what was happening and he stumbled a little as they left the room.

“Easy now,” Affleck told him, his grip firm but not painful. “It's gonna be okay.”

“Yes, sir.” It came automatically to his lips that answer. He knew he had to believe that, not question what the guard said, but he had questions milling around in his head so many of them that it felt like it was going to explode.

“We're going to the shower room so you can get cleaned up, you'll feel better for a shower. Then I'm gonna shave you. I know you like to lose that stubble before it gets to itching.”

“But it...” He shook his head. It wasn't his day to be shaved, too early,  _too early_.

“Ssh,” Affleck warned him. “You need to quiet down now, okay?” The last he knew was an order.

He nodded, remembered his place. “Yes, sir.”

The familiar regime of the shower did help. He focused on cleaning himself exactly the way he'd been taught, not too fast not too slow, but thoroughly so that he'd pass even a full inspection. Affleck didn't do one of those very often, just gave him what the man called a once-over before handing him a clean towel.

Affleck took his time shaving him. He calmed his breathing as he always did, focused on the noise of the blade as it took his bristles, the not unpleasant feel of it against his skin and the fresh, outdoor smell of the shaving gel they used. 

The first time he'd had this done, at least the first time he could remember, he'd been so nervous and twitchy that the guard had cut him some half dozen times. He'd been beaten afterwards, punished for damaging himself. The next time he was shaved he'd pissed himself instead, splashing the guard who'd shaved him. For days afterwards he'd been forced to kneel in inspection position, while one of the guards, usually Holloway, pissed on  _him_. 

He barely moved a muscle now while they were shaving him and he was always grateful for that clean, smooth feeling afterwards.

“There we go,” Affleck cleaned off the last of the gel from his face. “You're done. Not a bad job either, if I do say so myself.”

“Casey?” 

He turned his head in the chair, opened his eyes to see one of the nurses, Nurse Acker, in the curtained doorway. 

“Hey, Amy.” Affleck smiled. They liked each other, even he knew that.

“Mr Fox sent me. You're to bring him up to the office once he's clean. I've got his medications here and some clothes for once the client's done with her inspection. They're kinda basic, but he needs something more than scrubs. I'll walk up with you when you're ready.” 

“We're just about done here, I think.” Affleck tapped him on his shoulder, encouraged him to his feet. “Say, Amy, you uh... You finish early tonight?”

“Four thirty on Wednesdays.” 

He didn't know it was Wednesday, hadn't thought about what day of the week it might be in... He couldn't remember how long.

“I was wondering cuz there's this Christmas Movie Marathon on at the Cineplex. I was thinking of going, wondered if you might... Maybe you'd like to-uh, come with me?”

The nurse was just about bouncing, face flushed with colour.

“I-I love Christmas movies!”

“They're showing a half dozen or so, but we don't have to stay for all of them, not if we don't want to, or we  _could_... We could decide right? That's if you want to...”

“I'd like to go.” She told him, nodding enthusiastically.

Affleck grinned. “I'll meet you out front at the end of your shift, it doesn't start while six so maybe we could get a bite first?”

“I'd like that. We better go if he's ready; it won't do to keep Mr Fox waiting.”

“He's as ready as he's gonna be.” Affleck took his arm in that familiar grip. “Come on then, let’s take you up to the office, let the Lady get a proper look at you.” 

  
Matthew Fox's office at the Roche Academy was both stylish and comfortable. Hardly surprising really, Roche had extended its interest in slaves from simply scientific use in their laboratories, to include the training of body-slaves a little over two years ago and she knew they'd invested heavily.

“I have to ask you again Lady Blanchett,” Fox said as he handed her a cup of chamomile tea before settling opposite her with his own coffee. “ _Have_  you looked carefully at your motives in wanting to buy the slave?”

She took a sip of her tea before answering. “You think this is a knee-jerk reaction?”

“I don't know Lady Blanchett. Only you can answer that.”

Cate knew it was  _exactly_  that. Her feelings of pity for the man, her revulsion at his plight, in her opinion more than justified her getting him out of this place, and if taking him as her body slave was the only way to do that then so be it. It disturbed her more that, despite the concern she felt for him, despite seeing him in such a vulnerable condition, still some part of her found him attractive. 

Disturbed her, but not enough to give her second thoughts. 

“Perhaps it is,” she smiled. “But he is undeniably beautiful.”

As she expected, that brought the smile back to Matthew Fox's face. “As you say, Lady Blanchett.”

“So, can we get down to business?”

“Of course. When we first acquired him his name was Brian Austin Green,” Fox told her, putting down his coffee and getting to his feet. He crossed the room to a bank of white filing cabinets, going to a draw and pulling out a file before moving back to his desk. “His provenance is a matter of public record of course. As a body-slave he's only had the one owner. He was purchased at age twelve by Lord Malkovich. He served the man faithfully for years with no problems that we're aware of. Then, three years ago he suddenly ran away from his Lordship's estate in Boston Massachusetts. He was recovered, of course, and punished. Twelve months later, after what Lord Malkovich described as a particularly difficult and defiant period of behaviour, Brian was found by Lady Nicoletta, having slit both his wrists.”

What could have been bad enough to have driven the man to try and kill himself? How serious had his attempt been? Cate schooled her expression as best she could before replying. “That's when you acquired him here at Roche?”

He nodded. “He was sold as a test subject to our neuro-sciences department at a time when we were actively looking for suitable candidates to use for training purposes. A body-slave of his age and standard was exactly what we were looking for. As I said earlier, his conditioning was extremely intense and we reinforce that conditioning with a daily drug regime.”

“Does that regime need to continue?”

Fox frowned. “We've been looking at using similar treatments in the training of our body-slaves, to that end Brian has been our guinea-pig whilst he's been with us. The drugs that enhance his sexual performance can be stopped almost immediately, though they will take some time to work their way out of his system. He needs to be gradually weaned off those that affect his behaviour, and that should be done under strict medical supervision, though as a psychologist you probably know far more about that than I do. I'm afraid we can't guarantee what effect that will have on his state of mind. And of course his treatments may have had a detrimental effect on his long term physical health. We will need to ask that you accept, in writing, that this limits our liability.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“We can of course offer you the services of our medical team to supervise his drug withdrawal, in fact if you wish we can do that for you, prior to your taking possession of Brian, in our hospital wing. It's a very pleasant environment, Lady Blanchett, and of course he will be treated as your body-slave and  _not_  as a horse.”

She took another sip of her tea before putting the cup and saucer down. “I'm not sure that difference would be particularly easy for Brian to understand or appreciate.”

Fox flashed his smile. “Fair comment. We will of course disclose full details of Brian's treatment and supply you with all his current medications.”

“Thank you.”

“Now to the matter of price, obviously the sale can be settled here and now rather than in Escrow. Even so, as a horse Brian is of some value to Roche and I can't simply...”

Cate smiled. “Perhaps we can simplify this if you pass me your little book. I'll write down the sum I have in mind and we can go from there.” It would have been even easier just to say how much she was willing to pay but this was the way it was done.  _Polite_  society never openly discussed a slave’s price, numbers were written down, passed backwards and forwards. The whole thing struck her as ridiculous, but if she had to continue this charade... 

Fox passed her the little metal cased note pad and matching pen. Cate wrote her price in it and passed it back.

Watching Fox's eyes widen was worth every outrageous penny.

“Is that satisfactory Mr Fox?”

He coughed. “It... Yes, Lady Blanchett. Let me pass that to my secretary and she can have the contract ready for you to sign, once you've inspected Brian of course.”

Cate gave him a smile. “Excellent,” she told him, picking up her tea once more.

He had never been in this part of the building before, hadn't known until now that it even existed. It was different to the training rooms, to  _any_  of the rooms he could remember being in. They'd come up in a carpeted lift, walked down a long hallway of dark, tinted glass and wooden panels, there was art work on the walls and there were people. Lots of people were here, working; office staff, secretaries... They barely spared him more than a passing glance but he was suddenly uncomfortably aware of his nakedness, of every mark on his flesh. He wanted to cover himself, didn't want these people to see him like this, know what he was.

“You're nothing they haven't seen before,” Affleck's voice was low and steady. “Just relax. Almost there.”

He wanted to ask where, to understand why, but they'd reached the door at the end of the hallway and Nurse Acker knocked before the three of them went inside. There was a woman sitting behind a desk, but he barely glanced at her. His attention was riveted on the window that took up the whole length of the wall. He could see out, see that they were a couple of floors up. There were other buildings catching the sunlight, not too bright, not really, but it made him squint anyway. 

It had been such a long time since he'd seen the outside world. He wasn't sure  _how_  long, it was one of many things he couldn't remember.

He wanted to go closer, to look out. He turned to Affleck. “I...” He started to point. “Can I..?” 

Affleck pulled his arm down. “Quiet the fuck  _down_ ,” he whispered. “You don't want to get in trouble _here_.”

He didn't want to get in trouble, Affleck was right. He didn't want any sort of punishment and he guessed that if he messed up here, whatever they would do to him would be bad. 

The woman behind the desk stood up, the movement startling him a little. “He's expecting you,” she told them. “Follow me.”

She led them through a set of double doors into another office, larger and brighter with windows on two sides. There was lush cream carpet, so incredibly soft beneath his bare feet that his toes were just sinking into it. Mr Fox sat behind a large desk and the taller woman was there from the training room. He kept his eyes away from the windows this time, kept them fixed on the floor. Affleck released his hold on his arm, stepping away from him.

“Look up at me.” He did as he was told. Mr Fox got up from behind his desk and come to stand in front of it. “I want you to listen very carefully to what I have to say, do you understand?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“This is Lady Blanchett, you saw her in the training room. Subject to her inspection of you being satisfactory, Lady Blanchett has bought your contract and will be your new Mistress. Do you understand that?”

He risked a quick sideways glance at the woman sat in the chair before snapping his eyes back to Mr Fox. “I... Yes, sir.”

The woman, Lady Blanchett stood smoothly, coming to stand in front of him. He dropped his eyes to the floor once more. He couldn't help wondering why she had bought him, what she planned to do with him.

“Brian?” Her voice was very soft as she said that name. He knew it, recognised it, he just hadn't heard it in a very long time. He frowned, a horse didn't have a name, wasn't allowed one. That name though, he was sure it used to be his.

“This will be easier once his medication is reduced,” Mr Fox told her. 

She didn't answer him, just stepped a little closer, her hand coming up to touch his arm. “Brian, it's alright. Can you look at me, please?”

He looked up slowly and met pale, slanting, blue, grey eyes that softened the moment they smiled at him. 

“That's good, very good,” she told him, that hand rubbing soothing circles on his arm. She had shiny, straw coloured hair that looked full of heavy, thick curls, pinned up at the back. She smelled good too, smelled the way he remembered flowers smelling after the rain. “You've nothing to be afraid of,” she told him. Her voice was soft and low with an accent he didn't recognise. “Nothing at all. I'm not going to hurt you.” 

Her other hand took his wrist, lifted his arm. Her sudden gasp surprised him until he realised she had noticed his scars.

“He did himself a great deal of damage, both arms I'm afraid.” Mr Fox spoke up again. “The scarring is pretty bad but I'm sure a good plastic surgeon would be able to help,” 

She took his other arm, looked at that one too. He felt suddenly ashamed, dropped his eyes, and started to pull away from her grasp, without thinking, only stopping himself at the last minute. 

“Brian?” She must have felt him trying to pull away but there was no anger in her tone.

He swallowed, meeting her eyes nervously this time. 

“It's okay.” He was surprised to see her soft smile and the film of moisture in her eyes that hadn't been there before. “I want to take a little look at your back now. I'm not going to hurt you, remember?”

“Yes, Lady Bl...” he stumbled on her name, surprised when her smile broadened.

“Blanchett,” she told him.

“Lady Blanchett,” he repeated.

She moved behind him slowly, her hand touching his arm once more and rubbing it gently. 

“When were you beaten?” She asked him.

“Last night.” Maybe she wouldn't be interested in becoming his mistress now, knowing he'd been in trouble. People didn't like slaves that were trouble, he remembered that. He wasn't sure why she would want to become his mistress anyway. Wasn't sure what that would mean for him.

“I did explain that his treatment could be quite brutal.” Fox told her.

“So this was a punishment of some kind?” Her question was for Mr Fox and not for him.

“Presumably, I'd have to check of course...”

“Brian, were you punished?”

He nodded. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.” He remembered the name this time.

“What did you do?” she asked him.

He frowned. “I-I'm not sure. Something... I made Preceptor Benz angry,” he struggled to remember why she'd been so furious with him.

“It's fine if you can't remember, don't worry, Brian.” She'd come around to face him again, her smile back as he met the pale blue of her eyes. She turned to Mr Fox. “Are there some clothes Brian can put on while I sign the contract?”

“You're happy for the sale to go ahead?” 

She rubbed Brian's arm again, not looking at Fox this time when she answered. “Yes I am.”

“I brought up some clothes,” Nurse Acker spoke up. “Just sweatpants and a sweat shirt I'm afraid, some slippers from the hospital wing. We don't have clothing suitable for...”

“They'll be fine.” Lady Blanchett cut her off. 

“Could I have a moment or two alone with Brian?” Cate asked Matthew Fox once he'd handed her back her bank card.

“Yes of course, Lady Blanchett. I'll get your receipt and have Brian's provenance and personal papers put together for you.” He got to his feet nodding to the dark haired security guard, the nurse having left them after handing over a disturbingly large, zippered bag full of medication. “We'll be right outside when you need us,” he told her.

Fox left, the security guard with him, and she turned her attention to Brian. He had finished dressing and had stood near the window, looking out. She wondered how often he got to go outside. As the others left the room his attention left the view, flicking first toward her and then down at the floor, his uncertainty more than evident in his body language. The minute she moved to him he began to go to his knees.

“No, Brian.” She reached out, gesturing for him to stop, which he did at once, his gaze riveted on the floor. She came closer, resuming her gentle rubbing of his, now sweatshirt covered, arm from before and hoping he found it comforting. “I don't want you to kneel. I want you to come over here and sit down for a moment, please?”

She led him to the chair she'd been sat in earlier, guiding him to sit down. Once he did she crouched down in front of him.

He risked a glance at her, spreading his legs a little, his hand moving slowly to hitch up his sweatshirt, rest on the waistband of his pants. He was sporting an impressive erection, had been since he'd first come into the room. “Sh-should I..?”

“No.” She took his hand in one of hers, moving it away and pulling his sweatshirt back down with the other. She kept her hold on his hand. “Brian, I need to know if you understand what's happening to you. Can you tell me what you think is happening?”

She didn't think he was going to say anything at first but then he cleared his throat slightly, his eyes coming up to meet hers with that tentative, nervous look she'd seen from him before. “I-I'm not sure,” he admitted.

“I've bought your contract from Roche, you're going to be leaving here with me.”

His eyes dropped for a moment before coming up to meet hers again and she felt his hand twitch beneath hers.

“You can ask me any questions you want to,” she told him.

There were fewer hesitances this time. “Where will you be taking me?”

“To my home...”

“Not a lab?”

“No,” she reassured him. “Nothing like that. I've bought you as my body slave.” She squeezed his hand. “I know you've done that before and...”

He began to shake his head. “I-I don't remember.” He dropped his eyes, still shaking his head. “Don't remember.”

“It's alright.” She stroked a hand up over his hair, hoping to calm his obvious agitation a little. “I won't hurt you, Brian. There's nothing to worry about.” Easy enough for her to say, she knew.

Cate had made the journey to the Academy in one of the Witherspoon family limousines. Reese was waiting for her in the car, not having bought a slave of her own. Cate left the Roche building with Brian, the guard from earlier accompanying them. Brian had stopped in his tracks as they left the building, breathing in deeply and looking around.

The guard was about to take his arm but Cate stopped him. “It's okay, let him take his time. I presume he doesn't get out all that often.”

“As far as I know he hasn't been out at all, ma'am,” the man told her quietly.

“What?” She couldn't hide her shock.

“Rules, ma'am. They don't treat a horse much different than they treat a slave lab rat.”

“No, I don't suppose they do.” A part of her wanted to just let Brian stand there, enjoy the fresh air and the sunshine that had been denied him, but another part wanted to get him far away from Roche as quickly as possible. She reached out to him, her smile in place, touching his shoulder gently to coax him into moving.

He started moving again right away.

“I know you inspected him, ma'am, but...” The guard hesitated, looking at her uncertainly for a moment before continuing. “Last night, after he was punished by the preceptor, one of the guards used him. It's allowed, a perk of the job for some I guess. From what I hear the guard who took him mighta been kinda rough. It's kinda frowned upon, but pretty much ignored so long as there's no permanent damage. Today hasn't been easy for him either, he's got to be  _real_  sore, ma'am.”

“You didn't let anyone else know about this?” It came out sharply.

“No.” The man let out a sigh. “Look ma'am, I... This is my job, I might not be happy with some of the things that happen here but... I need this job, can't afford to lose it, get myself in debt. It's not that much of a step down from where I am to where he is but it's one I don't plan on taking, so I don't rock the boat, don't speak out when maybe I should.” He shook his head. 

She understood. She was wealthy, from a good family, but that didn't mean she was safe from the threat of slavery. She might not feel it as acutely as the guard but it was still the stuff of more than a few nightmares.

“I understand.”

They walked on in silence to the waiting limousine. Cate had been so sure of herself, so certain of what she was doing, rescuing Brian from this place. She knew it was the right thing to do, nothing could convince her otherwise, but the implications of what she'd taken on were only just beginning to hit home. The prospects were nothing if not intimidating.

Brian remembered being in a limousine before. It hadn't been modern like this one, it had been of an older design. Walnut interior and coffee coloured leather seats. He remembered that he'd had to kneel back then, so he did that now, knelt and waited, afraid because he remembered being afraid from before. Always afraid. He kept his head down, not acknowledging the limousines other passenger, a woman.

Lady Blanchett climbed in after him, encouraged him off his knees to sit in a seat near the window. He did as she said, looking out as the large car slowly pulled away from the curb, taking him from the one place he had any real memory of. He hadn't like it there but there had been rules and he'd understood them. Now all that was gone and he was in a world he didn't understand, that he was struggling to cope with.

Lady Blanchett seemed nice but... She owned him, he was her body slave. That scared him and he didn't know why, didn't want to remember why.

The scenery passed by the window and he watched it intently, the sunshine and shadows, so much green everywhere he looked. Lady Blanchett ignored him, speaking to the other woman for a while before taking out a cell phone from her bag.

“Dr Craig, please. It's Lady Blanchett.”

He felt her eyes on him but kept his own gaze riveted on the ever changing view.

“Hello, Daniel, it's Cate.”

She had a pretty laugh. “I'm fine, what about you?”

“I thought you were seeing someone.” She laughed again. “You're hopeless, really, there's no hope for you.”

Her voice took on a serious tone. “Actually no, not a social call, though I owe you one. Would you have time to make a house-call today?” There was a pause before she answered. “Not over the phone, no.” Another pause. “It depends on the traffic, but I should be home in a couple of hours.” He heard her laugh again. “That would be perfect. You could stay for dinner, I could heat up something. Or we could have take-out, yes. Yes,” he could hear the smile in her voice. “I'll see you then.”

She finished her call, chatted with the other woman in the car, Reese. After awhile he stopped listening. As they passed through the busy city streets he saw the shops, brightly lit for Christmas. He saw the movie theatre, the Cineplex with its Christmas Movie Marathon. Affleck would be there later, with Nurse Acker. He touched his fingers against the cool window as if he could touch where they were going to be. He'd probably never seen them again, maybe that wasn't important but they'd been part of his small, familiar world and now that was gone. He was alone and everything was new and uncertain.

He wasn't a horse any more, he was Brian. He didn't want to remember being Brian, the few things he could remember... He rubbed hard at his arms, willed those memories away.

He risked a glance at Lady Blanchett and found she was looking at him. The concern on her face changed into a soft smile.

He liked her smile.

“Everything is going to be fine, Brian, don't worry.”

She sounded so sincere he could almost believe her.

  
~0~

“Well, here we are,” Cate announced, stuck for words that usually came so easily to her. What could she say to someone whose life she had just purchased on a sudden and, admittedly expensive, whim? A living human being who stood in the hallway of your home looking like a deer caught in a car's headlights?

She'd saved him, done a good thing,  _hadn't she_?

Brian Austin Green didn't look like a man who'd been saved. He looked utterly lost, his eyes flickering hesitantly from her to the floor, never making direct contact and reflecting nothing but fear and uncertainty.

“This is home, Brian. You're safe here.” She tried for reassuring, but her words didn't seem to have any kind of positive effect. She decided to try another tactic, one that worked well on her sister's children when they descended for one of their infrequent and increasingly awkward visits.

“I don't know about you but I'm feeling hungry. Why don't I make us both something to eat?” She took his hand in hers and led him, unresisting, into the kitchen.

“Here we are,” she told him, releasing his hand. “I suppose I should explain that I don't have household slaves. I use an agency; have contracted slaves to clean for me a couple of times a week, but other than that I manage on my own.” She put the bag of medication she'd received from Roche down on the counter.

“I'll have to go through all these,” she told him absently, opening the bag. “See what you're due to take and what Roche says you can safely stop taking right away. There's a list apparently.” She searched in the bag and found it. The list was actually very helpful; Brian was due to take some of his medication, and a little overdue taking one particular drug.

There were notes attached to more than half the drugs on the list, warnings that the patient should only be weaned off that particular medication under strict medical supervision. She went back into the bag, pulled out what he needed to take.

“How about a sandwich?” She asked him, leaving the medication alone to investigate the contents of her fridge. She really needed to arrange for groceries to be delivered, there was barely enough to last the two of them more than a day or so, depending on how much Brian ate.

She had bread and cheese; cheese that was remarkably still in date. Everyone liked bread and cheese. There was soup too, broth that just needed heating up. She could order something a little more substantial for them later, once Daniel arrived. The sandwich and broth would be enough for now, and coffee. She was craving coffee.

“Have a seat, Brian,” she urged, realizing she’d just left him standing.

It probably wouldn't be a good idea to give him coffee. There was water of course, but that seemed a little too institutionalized. She doubted they'd given him anything else at Roche.

 _Milk_. She had fresh milk. The only other options were tea and hot chocolate. Hot chocolate was comforting, but she imagined it would be too rich.

“Brian?” She turned to face him. “Have you ever had...?” 

Brian was naked, kneeling on the kitchen floor beside one of the chairs with hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the ground. The pose was textbook in its perfection, even to the clothes folded so neatly beside him. 

If she hadn't been so ridiculously casual, so intent on ignoring the ramifications of the huge, life changing thing she'd done to them both...

“I'm sorry, Brian. I'm  _so_  sorry.” She wanted to kneel with him, wrap her arms around him, and comfort him, comfort  _herself_. She'd been selfish, stupid. No, not entirely. She couldn't have left Roche without him, there was no denying that. As selfish as that was, and it was, she realized, in so many hideously complicated ways. Brian didn't need her to make this any harder for him. As much as she'd hated Roche, as much as  _he_  must have hated it, it was what he knew, all he had known for years, and she had taken him away from it. Right now, he needed her to be his mistress, though she found the prospect abhorrent. 

She crouched in front of him, tilted his chin up with her fingers. “Look at me, Brian, please.”

He obeyed her instantly. He had the most beautiful eyes. When she'd first seen Brian, she'd expected his eyes to be brown not this slate shade of blue. The expression in them, when he’d walked out of Roche into the daylight, would stay with her for a long time.

“You've done well, really well,” she told him. She smiled and ran a hand gently over his hair. “I'm so pleased. I know everything is strange to you, that it's all going to take a while to get used to, and that's okay. You and I need to get used to each other.” She stood. “On your feet now,” she encouraged him. Brian needed structure; he'd been trained to blindly obey so she had to give him something  _to_  obey, at least for now. “I have some rules that I want you to try and remember. The first one is that I don't want you to get undressed unless I tell you to. The second is that, unless I tell you otherwise, I expect you to sit at the table to eat. Do you understand?”

He nodded attentively. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

“It's Cate, but we'll work on that one.” She smiled at him. “I want you to get dressed now and sit at the table please so we can eat. Do you like milk, Brian?”

He frowned, lashes fluttering over those too bright eyes. “I-I think so.”

“You can try some and decide.” 

Cate smiled at Brian as she placed the soup and sandwich in front of him before taking a seat opposite with her own. She hadn’t felt particularly hungry before but the broth smelled really good, and it tasted quite good too. She glanced over at Brian, surprised to find that he wasn’t attempting to eat anything. His hands seemed to be in his lap, head lowered and his eyes fixed on the table.

“Brian? Is there something wrong with the food?” She frowned. “Do you need me to give you permission to eat?” she wondered.

“I’m not permitted, my lady.” He didn’t look up but she saw a heavy frown crease his forehead. “There’s a knife a-and the spoon is metal. I’m not permitted cutlery, just a plastic spoon.”

“Why are you not allowed cutlery?”

She saw him swallow. “In case I damage myself.”

Cate paused to school her features before she answered him. “Do you want to harm yourself, Brian?”

He shook his head. “No, my lady, I wouldn’t,” she could see he was wringing his hands in his lap, distress clear on his face. “C-commerce d-does not permit damage to it’s p-property,” he stammered out. Even with the stammer it was clearly a phrase Brian knew by heart.

“No, it doesn’t.” Cate knew she had to reinforce that point to some extent -- the last thing she wanted was for Brian to try and hurt himself. “You’re no longer at Roche, you belong here with me. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, my lady.” He answered her quickly, but Cate wasn’t sure he really understood, at least not yet.

“Then I want you to follow my rules. You have my permission to use any cutlery that I give you, can you do that?”

“Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

She smiled. “Eat your lunch, Brian.”

He ate quickly and silently, his posture stiff and tense in the chair. He kept his head down as much as possible, but watched her as surreptitiously as he could, clearly unable to meet her eyes but acutely aware of her body language. 

Cate watched him as well, noting the shake in his hand when he picked up the spoon, his hesitation to use the knife to cut his sandwich.

This wasn’t going to be easy, not for either of them. 

~0~

The doctor was different to the ones Brian was used to; groups of white coated men and women in cold examination rooms who barely acknowledged him, let alone looked him in the eye. This man, Dr Craig, wore a bespoke suit, a perfectly fitted silk shirt and a neat, tightly knotted tie. He spoke to Brian the entire time with an accent he wasn't sure of at first but then realized was British. He looked at him through intense blue eyes that caught his gaze every time he dared to raise it. The man had large, blunt fingered hands that were surprisingly gentle when they touched him. He'd looked through Brian's provenance when he'd first arrived and spent a long, silent time drinking coffee while reading his medical records from Roche

They'd moved into one of the bedrooms. A nice room with a time worn wooden floor and a large terracotta and cream rug that Brian stared at as he fought to be calm, to try to take in all that was happening. Lady Blanchett sat beside him on the bed, laid her hand over his, her fingers tracing soothing patterns over the back of his hand. The doctor took vials of his blood as those blue eyes studied the scars on his wrists and inner arms, fingers moving lightly across them. Those same hands moved his head, to shine a penlight in his eyes. The man's face moved disturbingly close as he moved the light to look in Brian's ears, depressed his tongue with the little wooden strip before those fingers felt his neck, beneath his ears and moved lightly over the bruises there, forcing Brian to move his gaze from the rug to the soft peach wash of the ceiling.

“Do you remember how you got these bruises, Brian?”

 _Holloway's fingers wrapping tightly around his throat as he pounded inside of him._

 _“How can you be so fucking tight, boy, every damn time?”_

 _The pressure of those fingers almost cutting off his air._

 _“They do something to keep you that way, huh?”_

He risked a quick, nervous glance at the man. “I-I remember...”

“You don't have to say, mate. It's okay.”

Lady Blanchett's fingers squeezed his gently as the familiar feel of a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his arm. He moistened his lips a little, darting his eyes to their joined hands before letting his gaze return to the pattern of the rug. He waited to be instructed to strip and was surprised when it didn’t come. He was surprised again by the thermometer that beeped in his ear, at the raising rather than removal of his t-shirt, as the stethoscope slowly moved from chest to back, with gentle instructions to breathe, hold and relax.

He lay back when he was told, more nervous than he expected to be, as those hands moved over his belly, searching for pain but not finding any.

“Okay, Brian, I need to take a look at your legs and your buttocks. Can you slip off the pants for me and turn onto your stomach?”

He did as he was told, surprised when he heard the man's sharp intake of breath.

“What did this, Brian?”

“A cane.” 

“Were you restrained when you were caned, is that where the bruising on your wrists and ankles came from?” the doctor asked him.

He nodded. It was always the cane when the punishment came from Preceptor Benz. He wondered what Lady Blanchett would prefer. Being a body slave was different, he remembered. Back then he'd been sent to wait, to think about what was coming, sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours, knowing what he had to face, what would happen...

“Brian, easy mate, I'm not gonna hurt you.” 

He was shaking, he realized as he came back to the present.

“I just need to take a little look,” the doctor told him. “Try and relax.”

He felt gloved hands part his buttocks and bit down on his bottom lip, waiting, not knowing what to expect from someone new. He was still sore and it would hurt...

“It’s okay, Brian.” Lady Blanchett's hand had moved from his to card slowly through his hair. “I know you've been through a lot today but it’s almost over now.”

The intrusion, the pain he'd expected didn't come; gloved fingers barely touched the rim of his hole before releasing him.

“Lady Blanchett tells me that after you were beaten you were forced to have penetrative sex with one of the guards. Did you bleed afterwards, Brian, do you remember?”

“I don't know.” They were supposed to report it if he bled but he knew Holloway wouldn't do that, knew a guard could lose pay if he was damaged.

“But he hurt you?” The doctor wanted to know.

He wasn't sure if he should say. If he had to go back, and Holloway were to find out...

“Brian, you need to tell the truth. You belong to me now; you're not going back to Roche.” Lady Blanchett moved from her seat on the bed to kneel down beside him and meet his eyes, gentle fingers moving over his cheek. “ _Did_  the guard hurt you?” Her voice was soft but her eyes were insistent.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“I still need to take a look, mate, but not tonight you're too sore,” the doctor told him. “I'm going to put some cream on you instead, it'll just feel cold -- it won't hurt. I'll put something on the bruises from the cane too, take some of the pain out of those. We're almost done here, Brian, I promise.”

Lady Blanchett didn't move, she remained kneeling beside him, and held his hand as the doctor put on the cream. It was lube cold, and made him flinch a little but it didn't hurt. A different thicker cream went on his back over the bruises. It didn't hurt exactly, more of a numbing tingle that deepened to soothe the ache to something less painful.

“Can you roll over for me now?”

It was phrased as a question, but that didn’t mean you had a choice, he knew that. 

Fear and uncertainty had eased his erection a little, not enough though, the need for relief was still there, was always there. The state of his erection, his refractory period, was studied regularly by the doctors at the academy. It was never a pleasant experience to be restrained on that table, always humiliating. The tests they ran, so impersonal, so clinical, more often than not were long and painful. He wasn't sure what this doctor was going to do, didn't really want to know. Maybe he didn't have to look; maybe he could just close his eyes, take himself away from the room and what was happening. He did it quickly, felt his breath quicken in his chest as he waited for either the doctor or Lady Blanchett to forbid him that small escape, but it didn't happen. There was nothing too bad about the exam, just careful touches, easy questions and the strange and reassuring feel of Lady Blanchett's long fingers carding through his hair.

“Okay, we’re all done, Brian. Why don't you get dressed mate while I wash my hands. We'll have a little chat while Cate's ordering some dinner, okay?”

~0~

Ordering something plain for Brian, without rich sauces or dressings, from Café des Délices was an exercise in patience and persistence. Had she not been one of their regular customers Cate was fairly certain tempers would have frayed, on both sides. She’d been in contact with the agency that did her shopping and cleaning and arranged for groceries to be delivered, but they wouldn’t arrive until the morning so tonight they were eating take-away. Not that she was much of a cook. Daniel had always teased her about her lack of culinary skills when they were together. He was one of those infuriating bastards who could rustle up something extraordinary out of next to nothing, which didn’t seem fair.

He looked up from his seat on her coffee table, where he’d perched to speak to Brian, and smiled that intense, blue eyed smile of his.

“Are we getting fed?”

Cate nodded. “Twenty five minutes.”

“That’s quick.”

“I promised them a ridiculous tip.” She turned her attention to Brian as she took a seat on the nearby couch. “How are we doing?”

“Not too badly,” Daniel told her. “I’ve crossed through all the drugs on the list that Brian doesn’t need and can safely stop taking. We have to be a little more careful with the others. Ideally, I’d like to be able to wean him off them one at a time, step by step, keep this as trauma free for Brian as possible, but it’s not that easy.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“There are a couple of things here that…” He sighed, running a hand through his neat blonde hair. “When I registered as a doctor I agreed to perform my duties to a code of practice; to make the care of my patient my first concern, to respect their dignity, act with integrity… To see this kind of abuse of power, of knowledge, trust...” He shook his head, clearly fighting to control his temper. It took a lot to make Daniel angry, he was one of the calmest, most unflappable men Cate had ever met “Some of the drugs that Brian’s taking,” he continued. “It’s doing him more harm than good right now to stay on them, in my opinion. I think it’s in his best interests if we get these out of his system pretty quickly. I’m going to halve the dosage of two of them initially and we’ll see how he copes.” He looked at Brian. “It won’t be easy mate, I’m sorry, but I’ll do everything I can to help.” He turned to Cate. “I’ve written the new dosages down.”

“Brian, do you understand any of this?” she asked him.

His brow creased into a frown. “I-I’m not sure,” he answered softly. 

“It’s okay,” Daniel told him, “Nothing to worry about.” He got to his feet and came to sit beside her on the couch. “What about putting on some music for Brian, Cate? It might help him relax a little bit.”

It was a good idea and she was dismayed she hadn’t thought of it herself. She put on a little quiet jazz, pleased when after a few minutes she noticed Brian’s rigid, wary posture start to relax. She made quiet conversation with Daniel but continued to watch as tiredness began to overtake him and he fought a losing battle to keep his eyes open.

“He’s had a hell of a day.” Daniel leaned over to carefully move some of her straying bangs back behind her ears. “You both have.”

It was a while since the two of them had ended their relationship, but Daniel’s touch was still comfortably familiar. “Want to hear something funny?” she asked him.

“Tell me.”

“There’s a part of me that’s sure, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that taking him away from that place was the best thing I could have done for him.”

“And?”

She turned to face him. “What if I’ve made a huge mistake?” She kept her voice quiet, even though Brian seemed to be dozing. 

“You can’t think he’d have been better off at Roche?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I was… I was thinking about me. How am  _I_  going to cope, Daniel?”

“You’re not going to be able to reach him yet, Cate, not on the level you feel you want to, but in a few days he should start to pick up and things will get easier…”

He had missed her point, she knew he had.

“I don’t know if  _I_  can deal with it, Daniel. I don’t know if I can be the person he needs, I don’t even know if I want to. I had a knee jerk reaction to a terrible situation, just the way I always do. Show me an image of famine, show me orphans sold to the State, show me animals in danger of extinction, talk to me about equality, slavery, about corporal and capital punishment and I’ll see a cause I can get behind, talk about, throw money at, but this…” She shook her head.

To her surprise Daniel gave her a lazy, indulgent smile. “Bloody hell, Cate, you’re telling me this like its some sort of revelation. I  _know_  you, good  _and_  bad. You’re not being fair to yourself.” He told her. 

“I just reacted. If I’d thought this through…”

“You’d have  _what_ , left him there?”

She frowned. “Maybe I would,” she insisted. 

“Rubbish. You’re scared, Cate, just like he is,” He nodded over at Brian. “Life can’t always be predictable and controlled, no matter how much you want it to be.”

“Are you saying my life is predictable?” She felt strangely affronted.

“Are you telling me it hasn’t been?” He asked her. “Life never stays that way. Fate doesn’t leave any of us to our own devices, Cate. It steps into everyone’s lives, adds a little drama.”

“This isn’t a  _little_  drama,” she pointed out.

“No, it’s not -- it’s life changing, like losing a loved one or having a child. You cope… or you don’t. That’s how it goes.” He smiled. “I personally think you’ll cope just fine.”

“I was wondering…” She’d asked so much of Daniel already that she felt she was taking advantage, but she didn’t want to trust this to a stranger. “If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to retain your services as Brian’s doctor, keep this above board so we don’t have any points of contention with Commerce.”

“I was going to suggest it to you anyway. I’ll warn you now though, because I’m British, Commerce will undoubtedly take an interest once they see his patient registration. I can’t do anything about that -- my dealings with slaves have to stand up to scrutiny.” He sighed. “Remember, you’re talking to a heterosexual man with a sixteen year old, male body slave, heaven help me.”

“How is Jake?” she asked him with a smile. She’d met Jake more than once. He was beautiful, willful and frighteningly intelligent for his age. In public the young man was the perfect body slave, obedient and attentive, when they were in private he was entirely different, with a smart mouth and quick wits, abrasive enough to give even the likes of Kane a run for his money. He’d been bought by the acclaimed novelist Jack Nicolson when he was thirteen. Lord Nicholson was one of Daniel’s patients, a man who was, at one time, as famed for his sexual appetites as he was for his succession of best sellers. Heavy drinking and drug abuse had taken their toll on Nicholson, both physically and financially, and a year after buying Jake the seventy year old had been forced to sell up and move into a nursing home. He’d asked Daniel to buy the boy’s contract from him, confessing that he’d never actually touched him. Once Daniel had made it clear to Jake that he had no intention of touching him the two of them had forged a strong friendship, Daniel stepping easily into a big brother role.

“He’s  _sixteen_ , Cate. He’s a pain in the arse!”

“You like him, admit it.”

“He’s the son I never wanted, who I suspect may be fucking my housekeeper.”

“Emily? Isn’t she old enough to be his mother?”

“She dotes on him so much she could  _be_  his mother and he’s got her wrapped around his little finger. Not that I mind. Buying Jake took the pressure off me as far as Commerce was concerned and it gave him the chance of something vaguely like a normal life. Otherwise he’d have ended up as someone’s fuck toy. Jake’s a bright lad, he understands that.”

“But Commerce still takes an interest?” She was curious.

“Not as keenly as they used to but we still get more home visits than most.”

“Do you think they’ll be interested in Brian?” The thought of Commerce prying into her affairs wasn’t a pleasant one.

“You’re bound to get a visit, Cate, it’s been years since you had a body slave and then you choose a horse and register him with a British doctor.”

She screwed up her nose, fingers twisting in a stray curl. “I suppose you’re right. Not something I look forward to.”

“Brian’s obedience isn’t an  _act_ , Cate. He’s been conditioned to do exactly as he’s instructed. Commerce isn’t going to find fault with him, trust me.” 

“Breaking that conditioning won’t be easy,” she admitted.

“Is that what you want to do?” He asked her. His frown surprised her.

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I just wonder if maybe he hasn’t been broken enough for one lifetime,” Daniel admitted. “Maybe that’s not what he needs, even if it is done with the best of intentions.”

Cate shook her head. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve only touched on his medical file, skimmed it, and had a flick through his provenance. Have you read much of it yet?”

She shook her head, a little ashamed that she’d not made time to really study any of it, not yet at least.

“I didn’t read the details, but I noticed he’d been moved to a Commerce school when he was eight. That’s four years of conditioning before he was sold, over twenty years with his master and the rest as a victim of Roche’s not so tender mercies. I don’t see how that could possibly  _be_  fixed. I don’t know that you could give him any kind of  _normal_  life, not after that. But, maybe you could help him to understand that there’s a better life, take away the constant pain, abuse and humiliation.”

He was right, why hadn’t she seen that? “What’s wrong with me? Why aren’t I the one telling  _you_  all this?” Cate asked him, feeling tears prickle behind her eyes.

“ _Hey_. Come on, Cate.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulled her close.

“Ever thought of a career in therapy?” She asked him.

He laughed. “It doesn’t pay enough.”

The doorbell chose that moment to announce the arrival of their food.

~0~

Dinner had been delicious and filling, so much so that Cate wasn’t sure she wanted to move. Brian had coped a little better with dinner than he had earlier with his lunch, though he clearly still felt uncomfortable faced with using the cutlery. 

“I should go,” Daniel told her, getting to his feet and stretching slowly. “It’s getting late and I have an early consultation in the morning.”

Cate got up with him. “I shouldn’t have kept you this long, sprung all this on you.”

“Have you ever known me to do  _anything_  I didn’t want to?” He smiled. “I would have been offended if you hadn’t asked.”

“You’re a good man, Daniel Craig.”

“No, I’m a bad man trying to do better.” He picked up his bag. “Can I take Brian’s medical file with me? I’d like to go over it thoroughly.”

“Yes, of course.”

Daniel stuffed it into his bag before going over to Brian. “I’m off now, mate. I’ll be back tomorrow, see how you’re doing. You understand that we’re changing your medication, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Brian nodded.

“You might find you have some trouble sleeping. I doubt you will tonight but, if you do, you need to let Cate know, I’ve left something you can take, okay?”

“Yes sir.”

He held out a hand for Brian to shake and Cate saw the utter confusion in his face. Daniel saw it too, changing the offered hand to a gentle squeeze of his shoulder.

“Goodnight, Brian.” He smiled.

“Goodnight.”

Cate walked Daniel out to the hall.

“I want to see him every day for the next few days,” he told her. “I’ll probably drop by late tomorrow morning but I’ll call first, let you know. You’ll need to apply both creams again tomorrow, after he’s showered. I’ve left them in the bedroom. I’ve left containers for urine and stool samples too. There is something else…” He hesitated, his look assessing.

“Something else?” Cate prompted.

“We might’ve stopped giving Brian the drugs that enhance his sexual performance but its going to take a while for the effects to wear off.”

“It was mentioned at Roche. How long before that returns to normal for him?”

“Honestly, Cate, I’ve no idea until I’ve really studied the file, it’s a pretty complicated drug cocktail, but it could take weeks. In the meantime he’s going to have a pretty persistent erection. Being that hard is going to be really bloody painful for him. He’s going to need relief.”

She nodded. “Are you going to..?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not me, Cate.” He sighed. “I can’t do that for him. As his doctor I can’t cross that line, not with someone else’s body slave. I’d consider it breaching my code of ethics. You’re his owner, Cate. That kind of relief can only come from you.”

“I can’t do that,” she told him, astounded that he’d even suggested it. “I may have bought him as a body slave but I have no intention of taking advantage…”

“You wouldn’t  _be_  taking advantage, you’d be helping him. Who can do that for him if  _not_  you?”

“But I…”

“You’re his  _owner_ , Cate. You’re responsible for him. You need to look at this from Brian’s perspective, not your own.”

“And you think Brian will be comfortable with me..?”

“You may not have to -- it’s possible that if you give him permission then he’ll be able to take care of the problem himself, but…”

“It’s unlikely, isn’t it?” She realized, remembering what Jeff had told her about Jensen. Hell, she was turning into Jeff.

“I can’t imagine they’d allow him to masturbate at Roche. They seemed to be more about taking control away from him than allowing him any.”

She had to agree with that.

“You need to take a step back, Cate. Your heart’s controlling your thinking, and I can understand that, but it’s probably not what Brian needs from you right now. He needs you to take control of his life; he can’t function without you doing that for him, not yet. The drugs and conditioning won’t allow him to.” There was the unspoken implication that Brian might never be able to. “He needs you to be his owner, take responsibility for him. It’s not cruel, quite the opposite. Every day that goes by without the constant pain and degradation he’s had to endure will make a world of difference to him. Think it through, Cate, you know I’m right.”

She did know. It was common sense, but it didn’t make her feel any easier about it. She gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

He reached out and stroked gentle fingers over her face. “You don’t have anything to thank me for, anything at all. Give him a sleeping pill if he needs it, though he should sleep well tonight at least. If he worries you at all then you need to call me. That’s not an empty invitation, I’d rather be safe than sorry where Brian’s concerned.”

“If there’s a problem I’ll call,” she promised. “Now go home, give Jake my love.”

He nodded. “I’m going.” He leant in close and kissed her cheek. “You did a good thing today, Catey. A truly good thing.”

  
~0~

Cate finished braiding her hair, finally meeting the eyes of her reflection in the dressing table's mirror. She had to do this. It was cruel to delay any longer, he had to be uncomfortable. 

“ _God_...” She covered her face with her hands. “What the hell are you doing Cate?” She asked her reflection. “Get a grip.” It wasn't like she was a prude, not really.

She sighed, got to her feet, took a half dozen steps before she stopped in her tracks. Maybe she should take some cream or something with her. She didn't have any of the right stuff, just an assortment of hand creams and body lotions. They were all perfumed though and that might not be the best thing to use. In her bathroom cabinet, she was pretty sure she remembered seeing some hypoallergenic stuff that should be okay, surely? She went in and rifled through the cupboard, finding some hypoallergenic moisturizer in the back. She checked to see if it was still in date, opened it to make sure it hadn't dried up or anything. Stalling, she was stalling, again. She had to go and do this, now or never. In passing, she grabbed the pack of baby wipes she used to remove her make-up, noting with some relief that they too were hypoallergenic, guaranteed not to aggravate babies' sensitive skin.

She opened the door to the room she'd put Brian in, the hall light showing a dark shape in the bed but little else, it was impossible to tell if he was asleep or awake. He was most probably asleep. She wondered if she should wake him if he was or whether it would be better to let him sleep on, tackle this in the morning perhaps. If it was  _this_  difficult now how much worse was it going to be in the cold light of day?

She walked into the room, shocked at just how much her heart was pounding. This felt so bad, so morally wrong. Fuck Roche for doing this to Brian, for making it necessary for her to have to do this, for making her feel so heart sick. Bastards!

She walked over to the bed, bare feet all but silent. The dark shape of Brian lay unmoving beneath the heavy quilt.

“Brian?” She whispered. “Are you awake?”

The bedding twitched, turned. “L-lady... Lady Blanchett?” His voice was a little gruff with sleep.

“I... It's okay, I just...”

He scrambled unexpectedly from the bed. Cate thought he was trying to get away from her, but he was suddenly on his knees in front of her, head down, naked because she had nothing he could wear to sleep in. “How may I s-serve you, my lady?”

“Brian, you don't...” She suddenly realized he was shaking. She dropped the cream and the wipes on the bed and knelt down in front of him. “Hey,  _hey_.” She rubbed his arm gently. “Brian, you're shaking, what...”

“Do you wish me..?” He struggled to get his words out. “I can't... I'm not sure of the right words, my lady, I'm sorry, I-I don’t remember.”

“It's okay,” she reached behind him to the bedside table and switched on the lamp. “It's okay,” she repeated. This had gone so wrong, she'd messed this whole thing up so badly. “You've nothing to be sorry for. Get back into bed, Brian, it's alright. Come on.”

He did as Cate asked, not making any eye contact with her. The shaking hadn't stopped. She pulled the comforter up around him, smoothing out imaginary creases as she tried to work out how to make this right.

“Do you remember when we spoke in the kitchen just after you arrived?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

“This is just you and I getting to know each other. We're both going to say and do the wrong things when we're trying to do the right ones, but that's okay. There’s nothing wrong with making mistakes while we learn each other’s ways. Do you understand, Brian?”

“I-I should please you, serve you. I can't remember the words, from before, I tried, but...” He frowned, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead.

“They were giving you a lot of drugs at the academy, that's why it's hard for you to remember things. It will get easier once the effects of the drugs wear off. And you are pleasing me because I know how difficult this must be for you and I know you're trying.” 

“I'm sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, remember?” She smiled at him, pleased when he nodded. She decided to press on. “Dr Craig said that you can stop taking the drugs that make you so sexually responsive, but their effects are going to take a while to wear off. Are you...” she paused, unsure if she should be doing this. “Are you uncomfortable, Brian?”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Are you hard?”

He nodded.

“Can you touch yourself, make yourself...” This was hellishly difficult. “Can you make yourself come?”

“No, I-I wouldn't,” he answered quickly a look of panic in his eyes. “I haven't,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I know the rules! It's not permitted.”

“Ssh, it’s okay, Brian, just be calm. I believe you.” She took a deep breath, tried another tactic. “If I gave you permission to touch yourself when you started to feel too uncomfortable, would you be able to do that?”

“I wouldn't do it. I know the rules now, I swear. You don't have to test me.” There was  _so_  much fear there. What the hell had they done to him? 

“I know -- I'm sorry. I know you’re good. It's alright.” She sighed. “Let's just rest for a while, you and I, okay?” What the hell did she do now, did she just leave him alone. Go through this again tomorrow? “We're just going to lay here for a while and rest,” she told him.

She moved around to the other side of the bed, getting in beside him, retrieving the cream and the wipes and putting them on the bedside cabinet.

“Roll onto your side for me, Brian, and face the door, okay?”

He did as she told him, She felt his whole body shudder as she carefully spooned in behind him, saw him bite down on his bottom lip. “It's okay,” she placed her palm flat on his warm chest, felt his heart racing. His skin had a faint scent that reminded Cate of hospitals. “Try and relax Brian.”

“What sh-should I..?”

“I don't want you to do anything, just lie still,” she told him. “Those slow, deep breaths that Dr Craig had you do, could you do them for me?”

She saw him swallow, nod. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

At last something worked. He went through the ritual of pulling in a breath, holding for a moment and then slowly letting it out and she felt his heart rate gradually slow beneath her touch, felt the tension in his body ease. After a while she moved her hand down to rest over his belly, moving in slow, light circles. He barely flinched other than a slight hitch in his breathing. He was fully erect, leaving warm, sticky trails of pre-come where his hard length bobbed against her hand. She gazed cautiously over his shoulder; saw the open expression on his face, his wide eyes. 

Cate held her own breath as she reached down and wrapped her hand around him loosely. She heard his sharp intake of breath and began to stroke him slowly. It had been a long time since she'd done this with anyone, but to experience this kind of intimacy with a stranger... It was odd, disturbing, watching and feeling him respond, hips pumping, breath shortening, his hand grasping at the corner of his pillow. 

Her intellect was telling her to be revolted, disgusted by what she was doing but there was another part of her that wanted to give him more, make him feel good about this, but she couldn't. This couldn't be tender, could it? She was just giving him relief. She couldn't let herself get too involved in that. There had to be a line she couldn't cross.

She jacked him faster, a little tighter, watching as his breath shortened, brow creasing in a frown as he tugged at the pillow's corner, fingers digging in, back bowing suddenly as he came with a soft, subdued cry.

He turned his face into the pillow, panting a little and Cate released him, suddenly ashamed that she'd been watching him so closely. He'd spent so long being watched in his most intimate of moments. She was supposed to be the one who had taken him away from that but here she was doing the same thing.

This was wrong, this was all  _so_  wrong!

She moved away from him, reached up to the bedside cabinet to grab the wipes she'd brought in, cleaned up her hand and tried to work out what the hell she should do now.

When she looked back at him he hadn't moved.

“Brian?”

He rolled over onto his back, tentatively meeting Cate's eyes. “My Lady, I-I don't know... what you want. Should I...” Beneath the nervous uncertainty he looked so tired.

She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s time to sleep,” she told him softly.

“Sleep?”

She nodded. “It’s been a long day for both of us. I'll be just down the hall if you need anything.” She got out of bed and turned off the bedside lamp. “Close your eyes Brian, get some rest.”

He did as she said immediately. 

Cate couldn’t resist running her hand gently over his hair before returning to her own room. 

Brian wasn't alone in being tired, she felt drained. Tomorrow she'd have to sit down, think things through, make plans. Hell, she was going to have to tell Jeff. He was going to love this; it was going to take months to wipe the grin off his face.

 _Months_!

~0~

Brian awoke with a start, confused and uncertain where he was. This wasn’t his cell, wasn’t his cot. He felt panic start to rise up inside of him, turning his stomach. He knew he had to get up before he started to heave. He scrambled out from beneath a thick, soft cover, noticed the open door and tiled room beyond and ran, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet just in time. He stayed there until he was certain there was nothing left to come up then rose shakily to his feet.

He needed to wash, to be clean, ready, for what he wasn’t sure. There was a washbasin. A pink toothbrush, still in its packet, a tube of toothpaste, soap and a soft looking face cloth set out on the shelf above it. He hesitated, hand hovering over the toothbrush, uncertain if he should touch anything. There was punishment if he wasn’t clean, punishment if he touched things he shouldn’t, but he stank of vomit and there was no one here he could ask. His hands still trembled as he picked it up, took it clumsily out of its wrapper. 

As he looked up, the staring face of a man startled him so badly that he almost dropped the toothbrush. It took two nervous breaths before he realized it was his own refection staring back at him from the mirror above the sink, face pale, eyes red-rimmed, and afraid. He gazed at himself uncertainly, ran bed-warm fingers along the lines of his face. It was gaunter than he remembered, pale where he had once been tanned, body thinner with less muscle mass than he had once had. He dropped his eyes, not wanting to look anymore, not wanting to see his scarred arms, not wanting to remember. He concentrated on the familiar routine of cleaning his teeth, and washing himself instead, pushing everything else to the back of his mind. 

There was a shower in the room and several large, thick towels to match the face cloth. It all looked so tempting, but he knew he had taken a risk with the toothbrush, and knew better than to shower without permission.

When he’d finished cleaning himself up he went back to the other room. There was no mat he could kneel on to present himself, but there was a rug. He stared hard at the light that fell across it from a softly draped window. He dropped to his knees just out of the sunlight, sank his fingers into the deep pile. Terracotta and cream, it was the room Lady Blanchett had put him in, he recalled. He thought back, slowly, over the events of the day before. She had told him he wasn’t a horse anymore -- that he was Brian now and he belonged to her. He wasn’t sure what that meant for him, whether it would be better or worse. He’d learned that it was pointless to hope or to want; it just made things hurt more in the long run. Whatever was going to happen to him, he knew now that it was impossible to escape it. You couldn’t get away and there was nothing you could do to make it stop.

He settled onto the rug, concentrated on assuming the perfect posture as he waited for Lady Blanchett’s inspection, waited to do whatever he had to, whatever she told him. 

  
Her feet were bare when she entered the room, toenails painted a pale lilac. “Brian?” She sounded surprised to see him. “I didn’t think you’d be awake yet.” He felt her hand on his arm. “Stand up for me, please.”

He did as she asked him, kept his eyes lowered respectfully as he waited for her to tell him what to do. 

“Do you remember the rules from yesterday?”

He thought back and then recited them carefully, not wanting to make a mistake. “I should sit at the table to eat and I shouldn’t remove my clothes until you tell me to.” 

“That’s right. I have another one that I want you to try and remember. Whenever we speak I’d like you to look at me.”

Brian met her eyes quickly. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

She smiled at him. “That’s good, very good. I need to see about getting some clothes for you today, something for you to sleep in. I washed the things they gave you to wear at Roche but they’ll be dry soon. Would you like to take a shower while you’re waiting? You should shave too but I don’t have a razor for you to use.” She frowned. “I need to see about getting you one.” 

“I…” He halted, uncertain if he was allowed to speak.

She touched his arm, rubbed it encouragingly. “What is it, Brian? You can tell me.”

He dropped his eyes then remembered the new rule and looked up at her. “I-I’m not permitted to shave myself, my lady.” He rubbed a hand nervously over the scars on his left arm, the worst ones.

She frowned. “You’re not per… Oh.  _Oh_!” Her eyes widened. “Well we… I’ll work something out, don’t worry. Now, would you like to take a shower?”

That had gone far easier than he’d expected. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

“My name’s Cate. It’s alright for you to say it.” 

He frowned uncertainly. He’d been taught to use proper titles at all times, was punished if he failed to do so, but Lady Blanchett was his new owner and he had to follow her instructions. 

“Don’t worry, Brian. I know all this must be strange and difficult for you. Why don’t you go and have your shower?” she urged him. “I’ll bring your clothes through when they’re dry.”

“Yes, Lady… Cate,” he said, awkwardly, but it earned him a smile.

“Oh, Brian?” She crossed to the bedside table. “Daniel… Dr Craig, left this.” She held up a bag with two specimen containers inside. “He needs a urine sample and…” 

Brian nodded his understanding. “I’ve given samples before, my lady, at Roche.”

“Of course, I should have realized.” She smiled at him again, her eyes on his.

He couldn’t meet her eyes for very long, he had to look away, concentrate on an unruly curl of her hair that had flopped down from behind her ear. Looking directly into her eyes seemed to him the height of disrespect. He couldn’t remember a time when such a personal thing had been permitted. He knew he had to do as she said, she was his mistress and it was his duty, but he wished she would stop talking or leave.

It worried him that this might be some kind of test, that by obeying he was failing somehow and would be punished.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Her voice startled him from his thoughts. “Come and find me if you need anything.”

He nodded. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

He gave a silent sigh of relief when she left.

Brian enjoyed his shower, loved the feeling of being clean. He wrapped one of the large fluffy towels around his waist to soak up the water and toweled himself off with another one before padding out into the bedroom.

He was surprised to find Lady Blanchett already in the room. He struggled with deciding what to do, uncertain if he should remove the towel first or just kneel. She’d made a rule that he shouldn’t remove his clothes unless she told him to, but this was a towel and she’d want to inspect him after his shower, wouldn’t she? He rubbed hard at his temples. He should know these things. He’d been a body slave before, he should remember. There were things from back then, glimpses of memories that he didn’t want to remember, that he forced to the back of his mind and locked away. He couldn’t let those out, couldn’t look at them.

He saw Lady Blanchett start to turn in his direction from where she was straightening the bed, something he should have done. It gave him no more time to decide what was best. He dropped fluidly to his knees, head bowed, and waited for her to notice him.

“Brian,” she sounded surprised to find him there. “You don’t have to kneel. It’s just the two of us here. Did you enjoy your shower?”

He moved quickly to his feet, looked at her. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

“Could you come over here?” She sat down on the bed and patted a spot beside her. “Have a seat.”

He did as he was told, sitting self-consciously beside her.

“I need to reapply the creams Dr. Craig put on last night. It won’t take long, and then you can have breakfast.” She picked up a tube of cream from the bedside table. “We’ll start with your wrists and ankles.

She had large hands for a woman, long slender fingers with neat, squarely cut nails. They were manicured and buffed to a shine, not varnished. He could tell the difference. Her touch was gentle as she smoothed on the cream, first one hand, then the other. She paused on his left hand, studied the scars on his wrist and inner arm. It startled him when she touched them and he started to pull his hand away before he remembered himself.

“Did I hurt you, Brian?”

“No, my lady, I… I’m sorry, I…”

“Are the scars sensitive?”

He nodded.

“And you’re ashamed of me seeing them?”

He swallowed, nodding again. “Yes, my lady.”

“They don’t bother me,” she told him. “But, if you feel self-conscious about them we can do something. Vitamin E cream is good at diminishing the look of scarring. It won’t take the scars away but it can smooth the look of them, in time. If you’d prefer I could speak to Daniel, ask him to recommend a plastic surgeon, look into getting skin grafts.”

She looked at him, clearly expecting an answer.

“I…” He was at a loss what to say, wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear.

“Something to think about,” she told him with a smile. “We can talk about it again later, don’t worry.”

She put cream on his ankles before having him remove the towel and lay on his belly on the bed while she applied the cream to his bruises. She had a firm but gentle touch. It felt good, adding an aching edge to his erection.

“I erm… I need to apply the other cream too, Brian,” she told him softly. “Try and relax.”

He heard the too familiar sound of her putting on gloves. He couldn’t help tensing a little. He should be used to it now, spreading his legs for the touch of some stranger, but he could never quite hold back a shiver of fear, apprehension at what might be to come.

She rested a hand on the globe of his ass and his flesh jumped involuntarily.

“It’s alright, Brian. I’m not going to do anything to hurt you,” she promised, fingers gently spreading his buttocks. “This might feel a little bit cold, that’s all.”

If anything the touch was  _too_  gentle, it made him close his eyes, hold his breath. He remembered the feeling of her hand wrapped around him last night. It had been strange, different somehow. The thought of it made him so hard he ached. 

“There, all done,” she announced. He heard her pulling off the gloves. “You can get dressed now, come to the kitchen for breakfast when you’re ready.

“Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

~0~

Phoning Jeff was something Cate wanted to do, needed to do, but it still wasn’t particularly easy. In the end she’d foregone some halting, awkward attempt at an explanation and simply asked him to come over with Jensen, requesting he bring some spare clothes with him and some shaving equipment. Whatever Jeff thought of her odd request, he hadn’t asked any questions. Maybe her tone had given something away because he’d just promised he’d be at the house around lunch time.

Making that call went somewhere toward relaxing the tight fist of tension Cate had felt inside her ever since she’d left Roche yesterday.

It turned into a busy morning. The agency arrived first with her food order, an event that Brian had watched closely from a distance, an intense frown on his face. He appeared to be more aware today, even if he did seem tense. Whenever he thought she wasn’t watching, his curious eyes studied his surroundings, his expression giving away no hint of what he was thinking. 

Living alone Cate was used to the house being quiet, but it was unnerving to be in the company of another person when there was no conversation. Brian only spoke if he was asked a direct question and he kept his answers as brief as possible. She suspected that her rule about looking at her whenever they spoke wasn’t helping. Brian seemed extremely uncomfortable with making direct eye contact. In the future she was going to have to think through the rule making a little more carefully.

She was almost relieved when Daniel arrived, breaking the heavy silence. Cate sat on the bed beside Brian while Daniel carried out the internal exam he’d been reluctant to do yesterday. She stroked his hair, offering what she hoped was comfort and reassurance. Brian didn’t make a sound, didn’t show any obvious signs of distress, but despite the fact that this sort of thing had to be routine for him, the signs were there if you really looked. You could see it in the constant flicker of his lashes over that concentrated gaze of his, and in the white knuckled tightness of his clenched fist. 

Last night, unable to sleep, Cate had tried to imagine what it must have been like for Brian at Roche, how it must have felt to be nothing more than a subject to be used and constantly studied. She’d tried to imagine herself in the same position but she couldn’t -- she could barely imagine life as someone’s body slave. It had sent her to her office to retrieve Brian’s provenance. 

The key to Brian had to be in his time spent as body slave to Lord Malkovich. It was rare for an owner, especially one as wealthy as Malkovich, to keep a body slave as long as he’d kept Brian. Commerce hadn’t made all that many inspections but those they had were glowing. Brian’s behavior and responses were all rated exemplary. Malkovich was praised for the thoroughness and quality of his training methods, though there were no hints to just what those methods were. 

Cate had dug further back and looked at Brian’s records from the Commerce school he’d been put in at eight. Brian’s behavior hadn’t been so exemplary back then. They’d referred to him as stubborn and willful, especially at first. There’d been doubts that he’d be suitable, despite his potential, for training as a body slave. He’d spent a lot of time in their corrections unit. It was a huge jump from stubborn and willful to exemplary. 

Why, after twenty years or so with his master, had Brian suddenly run away? He’d been recovered within a matter of days, apparently unaware of his implanted chip. He’d been in a Slave Corrections Facility for eight weeks before they’d returned him to Malkovich. Eight weeks was compulsory for a runaway, it didn’t seem like much but Cate had heard and read slave accounts of time spent in Corrections, and none of them were pretty -- runaways were dealt with particularly harshly. According to Corrections, Brian had shown little in the way of resistance. Twelve months later, after what Malkovich had called a difficult and defiant period of behavior, he’d slit his wrists with a straight razor. 

None of it added up to Cate. The only thing that was clear was that Daniel was right in his assessment of Brian last night; he  _was_  broken, probably beyond any attempt at fixing. Giving him the best life she could  _had_  to be her priority.

~0~

Cate thought Daniel had forgotten something; he’d only just left when there was a knock on the door. She went to answer it, Brian a shadow behind her as he had been virtually the entire morning. For some reason she was startled to find Jeff there, momentarily turned away as he watched something outside.

“Hey, the Aston Martin; is that Danny Craig’s car?” he asked her, turning back.

She smiled at him. “You’re early, and the answer is yes, that was Daniel.”

“Are you and he..?” She wasn’t sure Jeff had really approved of her relationship with Daniel. He’d been surprisingly tight-lipped about it, which wasn’t Jeff’s style at all.

“No, it wasn’t a social call. Why don’t you come in and I’ll explain?” She stepped back to let him in, saving a broad smile for Jensen as he followed Jeff inside. “I’d like you both to meet someone.”

Brian had retreated a little, bright eyes reflecting his uncertainty. Cate walked over to him and began to rub soothing circles on his arm, knowing he needed reassurance, that she was giving him an awful lot to cope with on his first day out of Roche. 

“It’s okay, Brian.” She told him. “There’s nothing to worry about.” He was clearly nervous, eyes darting everywhere except at Jeff and Jensen. “They’re just friends of mine. This is Jeff Morgan, and this is, Jensen.” She turned to face the two of them. “Jeff, Jensen I’d like you to meet Brian, my body slave.”

~0~  
Jeff Morgan had a way about him, an easy charm and open manner that put people at ease. Jensen, always sensitive to the moods and body language of others not to mention the most none threatening person Cate had ever met, seemed to size up Brian immediately. He lost a lot of the stiff awkwardness he usually had around her, focusing on Brian, clearly sensing something wrong, his manner calm and easy. The combination of the two of them soothed away that wary, threatened look from his eyes until Brian appeared relaxed enough in their company for Cate to convince him to take a walk around the gardens with Jensen. 

Jeff scraped a hand awkwardly through his hair, face a picture of confusion. “A  _body_  slave?”

“I thought you’d laugh,” Cate admitted.

“Yeah? Well, maybe when I’ve caught up with all this.” He leaned back in his chair. “Brian’s sweatshirt says Roche. Are we talking Roche Pharmaceuticals?”

She nodded. “He was sold to their neurosciences division as a test subject. Roche branched out into the slave business a few years ago under a special license from Commerce. Their Academies train and sell body slaves, strictly top end of the market. Brian was a body slave before they bought his contract so he was an ideal subject for them to use as a horse. They’ve been experimenting on him, testing drugs that increase his sexual stamina and performance, developing behavior modification techniques…” Cate shook her head. “It’s pretty grim stuff. I couldn’t walk away from that place without him, Jeff.”

“What in god’s name were you doing at Roche?”

“I went with Reece Witherspoon.”

Jeff knew the Witherspoon’s well, saw Reece as the best of them just as Cate did. He sighed. “I’m guessing the family is turning the pressure on?”

Cate nodded. “She needed some moral support so I went along. We were getting the grand tour of the Academy when we came across a training session where they were using Brian. Knowing that horses are in use is bad enough, seeing it in practice…” She bit down on her lip. “I had to get him out of there, so I convinced them I wanted to buy him as a body slave.”

“They were willing to sell you their science experiment?” He frowned. “Jesus, Cate, how much did you pay for him.”

“You don’t want to know,” she admitted. 

“He seems okay. I mean, I noticed the bruises on his wrists and around his neck. He’s pretty skittish, but…” Jeff sighed. “I guess, maybe I would have expected worse. Does that sound bad?” He asked her.

“There’s so much you can’t see, and I don’t just mean what’s hidden beneath his clothing. The psychological damage of being forced to live like that, of being treated the way they were treating him, it has to be enormous. They didn’t particularly care about his mental health. They  _were_  honest enough to admit that their treatments would, almost certainly, have a detrimental effect on his physical wellbeing. The drugs and the conditioning techniques they used on him put a lot of strain on his heart. They had me sign a waiver, some limited liability clause, which says I won’t hold them responsible for any health issues arising from his time there. They were already conditioning new subjects to replace him.”

“So Brian was what, destined for some lab table?”

Cate nodded. It was a blunt way of putting it but it was true.

Jeff sighed, getting up and walking over to the window. “How can we  _do_  this Cate? How can anyone fucking justify treating another human being like that?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “On the way to the car yesterday one of the guards told me that after Brian had been caned, as a punishment for something or other the night before, and one of the other guards had raped him. Roche allow it, a perk of the job apparently for those who want it.”

“Jesus!”

“The guard who told me was concerned at how rough this other guy had been, thought he ought to make me aware of it. When I rounded on him for not reporting it he told me…” She sighed, knowing if anyone would understand this it would be Jeff. “The man was afraid. Unemployment, debt… slavery underpins our economy and it’s too close for most people, too easy for them to see themselves losing everything, becoming slaves themselves.”

Jeff’s back was still turned to her, hands thrust deeply into the pockets of his jeans, but she saw his nod. “I can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed  _my_  mind now and again.”

“You’re not alone in that,” she assured him.

“So, Danny Craig..?” Jeff asked her, turning away from the window and coming to resume his seat opposite her at the table.

“They had Brian on this huge drug cocktail. I don’t even know what half of the medications they gave me are. Some he can stop taking, but others… He needs to be weaned off them under medical supervision. Withdrawal won’t be easy for him, nor will coping without them, but this stuff is harming him and it has to be done. Whatever your opinion of Daniel, he’s an excellent doctor and, slave, freeman or nobility, he won’t discriminate.”

“I know he’s one of the good guys, Cate.”

“I’ve never been able to decide if you like him or not,” she admitted. “Usually I can tell straight away how you feel about someone.”

Jeff chuckled, rubbing at his beard. “I don’t dislike him, I just… He’s such a smooth bastard! You’re looking at a guy who doesn’t have a smooth bone in his body.”

“So you’re jealous?” She tried and failed to hold back her grin.

“No! I’m not  _jealous_. He… Guys like him they’re just different to guys like me. He’s the champagne and canapés type and I’m… I don’t know, beer and pretzels?”

Cate laughed her first real laugh in what felt like days. “When did you last eat a pretzel?”

“That’s not the point.”

“You own a  _vineyard_  for heaven’s sake, in addition to the cosmetics company. You’ve probably forgotten more about wine than I’ll ever know. You’re a fraud, Jeff Morgan,” she teased. “Admit it.”

He gave her a grin. “Maybe.”

“Daniel’s a good man; you’d like him if you got to know him.”

“I don’t dislike him, I swear, okay?”

Cate nodded. “Okay. Anyway, I asked Daniel if he’d consider taking Brian as a registered patient and he’s agreed.”

“That’s no small thing. What can I do?” Jeff offered.

“Where to start,” she sighed. “Buying him, getting him away from Roche, I admit it was a knee jerk reaction to what I witnessed there. The reality of bringing him home, caring for him…” She met Jeff’s eyes. “I thought I could deal with it, cope. I’m trying, but it’s so hard Jeff.” She felt her eyes fill up, something she thought she’d steeled herself against.

“Hey,  _hey_.” Jeff was instantly around the table, arms around her, a warm, solid presence. That unique musk of his, woodruff, spice and sandalwood, was so comfortingly familiar. 

“I keep  _fucking_  crying!” she berated herself, swiping angrily at her tears.

“There something wrong with that?” he asked, the words a gentle rumble as he folded her against his chest. “Seems a normal enough reaction to me.”

“What if I can’t cope?” she asked him. “What happens to Brian then?”

“Sure you can cope. You just have to realize you’re not in this alone. You’ve got Danny and you’ve got me. Tell me what I can do.”

“There’s so much I’m not sure of, so many things…”

“Let’s stop thinking about the big picture, okay? Let’s just concentrate on today. What can I do, Cate?”

She sniffed. “A tissue would be good.”

He chuckled. “Guess that’s a start. Where do you keep ‘em?”

She pointed to a box on the bureau, took one when he brought them back, blowing her nose as Jeff settled back on the couch beside her.”

“So, tell me what I can do.”

She nodded, took a sip of her tea before answering. “He needs clothes; all he has is what he’s stood up in. I can’t take him anywhere to get clothes dressed like that. Even if I could I don’t think he’d be able to cope. Yesterday was the first time he’d been outside, possibly the first time he’d  _seen_ outside, in three years. There were no windows on the lower floors where Brian was and I’m pretty sure they didn’t keep him in the slave dormitories.”

Jeff frowned. “Why the hell wouldn’t they let him outside now and again? What’s the fucking point of denying him that?”

The psychologist in Cate had seen the point pretty much straight away. “Letting him out didn’t serve a purpose, it might even have been part of his conditioning not to allow him access. It would confirm his status as a horse, an animal whose function is to serve and obey, nothing else. No reminders of better times, no hope.”

“Bastards!”

“Clever bastards, but yes, I agree with you there.”

“What did he do to get put there in the first place? Who sold his contract to Roche?”

“Brian’s only ever had one master, Lord Malkovich. Know him?”

Jeff’s eyes widened in surprise. “Not directly, only by reputation, he’s about as far right wing as it’s possible to get, I guess. Malkovich is one of the largest slave owners in the country. His family is old money but Malkovich has almost doubled their wealth since he inherited from his father. He’s in farming, on a massive scale. He owns land all over the country. All his farms are slave labor intensive. He’s done a lot of lobbying for amendments to the slave laws, wants to restrict their rights even further and extend those of owners. Didn’t you ever read that interview in Time Magazine where he talked about the advantages owners would have if they were able to selectively breed their slaves? If I remember rightly he referred to them as stock.”

“Oh god,” Cate knew the article he meant, all too well. “I  _do_  remember that, I’d just forgotten it was Malkovich.”

“How long was Brian with him?” Jeff asked her.

“Twenty years.”

He whistled. “I’ve never heard of anyone keeping someone as their body slave for that long. Do we know why he sold him to Roche?”

“Not exactly,” Cate admitted. “Brian was apparently an exemplary body slave, according to his provenance, but then suddenly he ran away. He wasn’t free for long, just days, that’s all. He served his punishment time in Corrections and Malkovich took him back. A year later he slit his wrists, did a pretty determined job of it too.”

“Christ!”

“Which reminds me; he’s not been allowed any kind of sharp instrument, not even cutlery. He used them for me yesterday… He got through it but he shakes like a leaf. I wondered… Do you think Jensen might shave him?”

“Can’t hurt to ask. In fact Jensen might be just what we need here, he’s good with clothes, sizes and that kinda thing. I brought a few old clothes, like you asked, but I don’t know how good a fit they’ll be.”

“I need to get him out of those Roche things.”

“Yeah, I can understand that. Why don’t we take a walk outside, see how the two of them are doing?”

~0~

Brian had noticed all the plants in Lady Blanchett’s house. It was impossible not to, they were everywhere you looked. Some heavy with flower, others just lush green leaves in all kinds of shapes and sizes. All her plants seemed to be healthy and well cared for. Her obvious liking for them should have prepared him for her gardens, but it didn’t. 

He’d not really given much thought to what was outside. The world beyond the place where he was confined hadn’t been a part of his day to day existence for so long that it hardly seemed real anymore. He hadn’t really looked out of the windows; there’d been so much to think about since he’d been brought here yesterday. He hadn’t even considered that he’d be allowed to go outside. It was just one more thing that felt wrong about being here with Lady Blanchett. This all felt too much like some kind of mind game designed to test him.

Part of him wanted to sit down right where he’d stepped outside. Just sit and try to memorize every detail before it could be taken away. If he’d been allowed out alone, he would probably have done just that, but he wasn’t alone.

He cut his eyes to the younger man stood silently beside him. He was as tall as Brian, and beautiful. There hadn’t been a single student come through Roche since he’d been there that hadn’t been attractive, but this man was stunning.

“Is this the first time you’ve been out to the garden?” The man, Jensen, Brian remembered, asked him.

He nodded. “You know this house?”

He nodded. “I come here with Jeff… Master Morgan,” Jensen explained. “He and Lady Blanchett are friends. I come alone sometimes too.”

They started to walk down the path between flowered borders, silent for a while. It might be winter but there was color everywhere he looked, so much of it. Colors he’d not seen in he didn’t know how long. It smelled so fresh out here, the heavy scent of flowers hanging in the air. He could hear birdsong, breeze stirring the trees and somewhere nearby there was running water. It was almost too much, a sensory overload that threatened to overwhelm him.

“She seems…nice,” he told the younger man in an effort to make conversation, distract himself.

He could remember some of these flowers; they were familiar from the time before Roche. He wished he could bring to mind their names. The gardens he’d known before had been much larger than this; grand, but Brian preferred this one. Being outside made him feel safe, he couldn’t remember anything bad ever happening to him when he was outdoors.

“Who were you with before Lady Blanchett?” Jensen asked him, as they walked slowly along the path.

“No one.” Brian met the other man’s stunning green eyes. “I-I was a horse,” he admitted nervously.

Those eyes widened a little in surprise. “I’m sorry.”

Brian had expected disdain, not an apology. “Why are  _you_  sorry?”

“Because it could happen to me and that scares me. It’s something we all dread,” he admitted. “I’ve never seen any of Lady Blanchett’s other slaves, but she…” he paused, scratching his fingers through his neatly trimmed hair. “I think she’s probably a good mistress. Jeff sends me here for therapy and she’s never punished me, always been kind.”

Brian didn’t think that could be true. He’d had something the doctors at Roche called therapy, nothing about it could be described as kind. The thought that Lady Blanchett might do the same made him shiver.

“Are you cold?”

Although it hadn’t caused the shiver, he was a little cold but he didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to go back inside, not yet. 

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

The path meandered on, sometimes crossing, sometimes following, the course of a small stream. Every turn revealed a different aspect of the garden, be it the colors in the borders or something of interest to catch the eye. There were sculptures here and there and places where someone could sit and eat if they wished.

They took another turn and Brian stopped in his tracks. The garden fell away from there in a series of sundrenched terraces of adobe brick and terracotta, but he barely glanced at them, his eyes captured by what lay beyond, sparkling all the way to the horizon.

“I-Is that the ocean?” It couldn’t be anything else but he wanted it confirmed, just in case none of this was real. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be allowed to see it again. He tore his eyes away to focus on Jensen.

The younger man nodded. “Have you seen the sea before?”

Brian gazed back at the view. “I-I remember the ocean, seeing it, a long time ago, but I…” His vision blurred and he felt himself shaking. “I don’t remember when, where… I can’t…”

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and squeezed gently. Jensen didn’t speak to him, just stood, solid and silent, by his side, his touch like an anchor.

It was a struggle for Brian to pull himself together. He was grateful that it was only another slave out here, not his new mistress. She’d been tolerant so far, patient with him, but he knew that wouldn’t last. It was a slave’s duty to serve his master. A slave’s feelings, his emotions, opinions, discomfort, were of no importance and should not inconvenience his owner.

An image came into his mind; a girl of around twelve or thirteen. She was a slave, cowering on her knees. Her eyes were rimmed red with tears, she’d been sobbing uncontrollably because… He didn’t want to remember why she’d been crying, he pulled away from the sound of screams, of pleading and broken cries that had been far louder, far more desperate, than the sobs of the girl. He remembered the anger of her master. She’d ruined things, important things, a boy’s first time, his special day. He remembered the crop in her master’s hand coming down over and over, striking her face, cutting flesh with every blow until her face was ruined, bloody and raw. The blows still not stopping until her screams were silent.

“We should head back to the house.”

The voice, the gentle hand shaking his shoulder, startled him, dragging him away from the horrors in his head. He nodded, taking a last lingering look at the ocean before he turned and followed Jensen back along the path.

They met Lady Blanchett and Jensen’s master halfway there and the decision was made to eat lunch outside in the December sunshine. Lady Blanchett asked him to help her, leaving Jensen and his master to sit outside.

~0~

They worked together in the kitchen; Brian laying things out on serving plates, a selection of cold meats, cheeses, salad, fruit and small crusty bread rolls with a smell that was making his mouth water. It was the first time she’d asked him to perform any kind of service for her and he worked carefully and deliberately, not wanting to do anything to disappoint her. He knew he’d done things like this before but it seemed so long ago, the memories so vague that he struggled to remember more than a glimpse of them.

“Did you enjoy the walk with Jensen?” Lady Blanchett asked him.

He risked a glance over to her, uncertain if he should stop what he was doing to face her and reply, but she was still chopping salad, not looking at him, so he presumed he was safe.

“Yes, my lady.”

“What do you think of my garden?”

“I like it,” he admitted, without hesitation.

He heard her chuckle. “Me too. What did you like the best?”

“I…” he bit his lip, unsure if he should tell her that the best part, for him, had been the view of the ocean. That wasn’t exactly the garden, was it? It was a slave’s duty to always tell the truth, irrespective of the consequences, but he so wanted to please her.

“I liked the v-view of the ocean, my lady,” he told her, nerves setting off a tremor in his hands that he couldn’t control.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? That view was the main reason I bought the house. What about Jensen, did the two of you get along?”

Brian frowned, uncertain what she meant. “I don’t understand, my lady,” he admitted.

“Do you like him?”

It seemed an odd question, but he answered her honestly. “Yes, my lady.” He wondered why she was asking, if the two of them would be required to perform for her in some way. The idea made him a little nervous. A body slave as beautiful as Jensen would be highly trained. You could see it in his poise, in the way he acted around his master. He was perfect and Brian was inferior, not adequate. He’d damaged himself, failed his last, his only, master -- failed him so badly that his lord had washed his hands of him. He’d not been deemed fit to serve as any kind of slave after what he did. He wasn’t a man anymore, he was less than an animal, he…

“Brian?” Her voice, her arm wrapping around him, other hand stroking his arm, startled him. “Brian, what’s wrong?” She asked him.

“I…” How could he be her body slave when he wasn’t fit to serve? He’d fail her and she’d send him back there and it would be worse, maybe they’d just give him to the doctors this time. He couldn’t go back to that, he couldn’t. He managed to fight down the sudden rush of nausea but couldn’t stop his legs from starting to give way beneath him.

“No,  _no_.” Both of Lady Blanchett’s arms wrapped around him tightly, “Stay with me, Brian, let’s get you to a chair, okay?”

Legs like jelly he tried to move with her. He knew he was making things worse, and this would show her just how inadequate he was when compared to someone like Jensen. She would see the mistake she’d made in buying him, how could she fail to?

“Just sit down, it’s okay.” He obeyed her voice, let her guide him down to a seat on one of the kitchen chairs. “That’s it.”

He heard the scrape of another chair as it was dragged close and she sat down beside him.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong, Brian?” Her voice was patient, soft, as it had been since the first time she had spoken to him at Roche, but that wouldn’t last, would it?

He had to show her that he wanted to serve, wanted to please her. He forced his reluctant limbs to work, pushing himself from the chair and dropping to his knees before he prostrated himself at her feet, forehead touching the floor.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I’m sorry,  _sorry_ …”

Everything had been fine. Brian had seemed happy to help her. Cate had kept the tasks simple for him, not wanting to give him anything to do that he’d struggle to cope with but aware that he needed to feel that he was serving her, even in a small way. He’d been doing well so she’d struck up a conversation, curious to know what he thought of Jensen before she broached the subject of Jensen shaving him.

She’d glanced over when he’d struggled to answer her question, saw his twitching hands send food spilling over the counter and onto the floor. She doubted Brian was even aware of it happening, there was so much fear in his expression, his breathing rapid and uneven. As she went over to comfort him she’d felt the buckle in his knees and had struggled to get him over to the chair.

“Brian?  _Brian_!” The command in her voice got through enough to stop the litany of apologies so she went with it. “Up from there, please.”

His body flowed gracefully from his prone position at her feet to the classic submissive pose as he knelt before her. His breathing was still ragged, but she could see he was trying to control it so she gave him a moment.

“Look at me, Brian.” He met her eyes at once and she saw that same fear still there. She reached out to stroke her fingers gently through his hair. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Please, my lady, d-don’t send me back,  _please_.”

“Why would I want to send you back?”

“B-because I- I’m not fit to serve you. Jensen, he’s…”

“Did Jensen say something to upset you?” It didn’t seem the type of thing that Jensen would do, but Cate couldn’t dismiss the idea. She had no clue how an experienced body slave would react to a horse.

He shook his head, eyes feverishly intense. “No, but… He’s perfect. You, you should have someone like Jensen, not d-damaged, not a horse, not me.”

The irony of Brian seeing Jensen as undamaged wasn’t lost on Cate. 

“I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are  _not_  a horse, not anymore. You’re my body slave. I chose  _you_ , no one else. I’m not going to send you back to Roche, do you understand?”

He nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

She doubted she’d convinced him, but all she could do was reassure him. “The drugs they’ve been giving you at Roche are making it hard for you to think clearly, making you doubt yourself. Things will get better, easier, I promise you. I asked Jeff to bring Jensen here because I’d like you to let him help you. After we’ve eaten lunch, I’d like you to let Jensen shave you, and take your measurements for some new clothes, some things to tide you over until you feel confident enough to choose your own. Do you think you’ll be able to let Jensen help you with those things?”

He swallowed, nodded, but there was still a good deal of uncertainty in his expression. “Yes, my lady.”

“Are you sure?” She pushed him a little, wanting an honest answer. “You don’t  _have_  to say yes. If you feel uncomfortable around Jensen I need to know. I want you to tell me the truth, help me understand what you’re thinking. It’s important that you always tell me the truth,” she emphasized.

“I’m sure, my lady. I don’t feel uncomfortable around Jensen. I…” He hesitated.

“What is it?”

“I can’t remember how to do things from before, how to s-serve you, please you. I don’t want to disappoint you, my lady.”

She gave him a smile. “I’m not disappointed, Brian. I know you’re trying very hard and I’m pleased.” Almost without thinking she stroked his cheek. “Very pleased,” she assured him.

~0~

Being shaved by Jensen wasn’t as disturbing as Brian thought it would be. There was something about the younger man that reassured him. He wasn’t sure what it was, his calmness perhaps, the soft, rich sound of his voice when he spoke. He took his time shaving Brian, didn’t say very much while he worked, concentrating instead.

He cleaned the remains of the foam from Brian’s face, his green eyes wide and appraising as he studied his handiwork.

“You need a haircut; whoever did it last time didn’t do a very good job.”

“The guards just shaved it whenever they thought it was getting long,” Brian explained.

Jensen frowned, one hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I can speak to Lady Blanchett, trim it for you next time I come, if you’d be okay with me doing that?”

Brian thought about it. He didn’t think he’d mind Jensen cutting his hair. He’d hated having it shaved off at Roche, even when Affleck did it. In the labs a slave’s head was always shaved, genitals too. They didn’t allow scrubs or gowns, keeping them always naked, displayed, just a body for their use. There was never any privacy; nothing was allowed to be hidden from their endless scrutiny. He’d had things done to him there, seen them do things to others that still gave him nightmares. Every time one of the guards at the Academy had shaved his head, every time the doctors had sent for him for tests he’d been terrified, wondering if this was the day he’d be taken back there for good.

“Brian?”

He snapped himself out of it, met the younger man’s eyes and nodded. “If Lady Blanchett wishes.”

Jensen gave him an odd look. “Lady Blanchett—Cate— she asked that I make certain that you’re okay, comfortable with things, it’s important to her.”

“I don’t understand,” Brian admitted with a frown.

The younger man smiled. “They’re hard to understand, masters like Cate and Jeff, they want…” He sighed. “It’s important to them that we’re happy.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I’m still not sure I understand why, the things they want are different than other masters, complicated. It just… It pleases them.”

“It’s a slave’s duty to please his master,” Brian remembered.

Jensen nodded his agreement. “I know but,” he scratched at his head. “They don’t want you to do things just to please them; they want you to do things to please yourself.”

“But…” It was one of the things he could remember from before, a part of his training that had burned itself into his mind. “It’s a body slave’s pleasure to do his duty.”

Jensen nodded. “Like I said it’s… complicated.”

“Have you had many masters?” Brian wondered. There was bound to be a lot of demand for a slave as beautiful as Jensen.

Jensen dropped his eyes, nodded again. “You?”

“There was just one.”

The younger man looked up again, eyes wide now, surprised. People had always been surprised, Brian remembered. “Just one? How old were you?”

He shook his head, unable to remember. “I-I don’t… A boy,” He knew that at least.

“Did you love him, your master?”

He shook his head quickly. How could you love someone who… He forced those memories, those glimpses of things he didn’t want to remember, to the back of his mind. “I-I don’t remember.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” Jensen told him. “We should get on with things, there’s a lot to do.”

Brian nodded, grateful for the change of subject but not wanting the other man to feel bad. “You shouldn’t feel sorry,” he told him awkwardly.

Jensen favored him with another one of those smiles that crinkled the corners of his eyes, not aging him exactly, just showing that he wasn’t quite as young as he first appeared. 

“We brought some clothes with us,” he said softly. “So you can change out of those you’re wearing. They’re Jeff’s old ones so they won’t be that good a fit but they’ll help me judge your sizes.” 

He went to the bag he’d brought into the room with him, pulled out some things, spreading them out on the nearby bed for Brian to look at. There were trousers and training pants, t-shirts, and some new boxers and socks still in their packaging. Brian couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn underwear.

“Do you want to take those things off, try them?” Jensen invited.

He nodded, standing with his back to Jensen and stripping out of the clothes they’d given him when he left Roche.

He heard Jensen’s sharp intake of breath. “Do they hurt?”

He’d forgotten the bruises from his caning. “Not too much,” he admitted. “The doctor, Lady Blanchett’s friend, put some cream on them, it helps.” He picked up one of the packs of underwear.

“Try those,” Jensen told him, coming to stand beside him and pointing out the pack of blue boxers. “Jeff’s kind of thick around the waist, mine will be better,” he told him. 

Brian opened the pack, pulling out a pair and slipping them on. The feel of the silk sliding over his erection made him hiss.

“That looks painful too.”

Brian nodded, remembering what the doctor had told him the night before. “Some drug causes it, something they were testing on me. The doctor says it will wear off soon.” He thought about the feel of her hand last night, wrapping around his cock. Back at the Academy there had been an endless succession of hands wrapped around his cock, some practiced and skillful, some awkward and fumbling, but never tender as it had felt last night. He had liked it, loved the feel of her body spooned against his back, so soft and warm.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, aware he’d been daydreaming a little, and tried on some of the other clothes. The trousers were too large on the waist, a little short in the legs, but the sweat pants were fine when he tied them to rest on his hips. All the t-shirts were baggy on him, but he didn’t mind. The clothes were worn, soft from multiple washings and held the faint scent of sandalwood. Jensen checked the sizes, making a list of what he thought Brian would need. 

The younger man bent and picked up one of the hospital slippers Roche had given Brian to wear. They were little more than padded paper and card, already wrecked from their walk around the garden earlier.

“You’ll need shoes,” Jensen told him, dropping the slipper back on the floor and picking up his notepad and pen. “What size are you?”

Brian stared at him. What size was he? When had he last been anything but barefoot? He knew shoes, other people’s shoes; he could recognize them just from the way they walked. He didn’t have shoes, a horse didn’t need them, but Lady Blanchett had said…

“I’m not a horse anymore,” he told Jensen, fingers kneading hard at his temples. “I’m a body slave, I’m Brian, I-I need…” He sat down on the bed and picked up the pack of boxers he’d opened. “I need underwear and I need shoes and…” He shook his head in the vain hope it would clear.

“Yes, you do,” Jensen said quietly, crouching down and squeezing his knee gently. “You need all those things. Lady Blanchett wants you to have them, wants me to get some of them for you, just until you’re ready to go and choose your own. I need to know your size, Brian, for the shoes.”

“I don’t  _know_. I can’t… I can’t remember!” He looked up at Jensen, begging for an answer he knew the other man wouldn’t have. “Why can’t I remember?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. I can find out about the shoe size, don’t worry, I can check your provenance, the yearly records, it will be written down there. Everything will be okay, it will.” His hand squeezed Brian’s knee a little harder before he got to his feet. “I’m going to fetch Cate, okay? I’ll just be a minute.”

She hadn’t worn shoes that morning; she’d been barefoot, just like him. Pretty feet, with lilac polish on her toes, her footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor.

“Brian?” 

He felt the bed sag beside him, knew it was Lady Blanchett, knew that he should move, do _something_ , but his body didn’t want to work for him.

“Hey.” A soft hand cupped his cheek bringing his head around to face her. She smiled at him, her thumb finding moisture as it stroked gently over his face.

“I’m sorry, my lady, I…”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“I can’t re-remember so-so many things,” he explained. “You…You’re going to send me back.” It was true, he knew it was true. What use was he when he couldn’t do things, couldn’t remember? He’d end up like the ones in the lab, the ones with the surgical scars on their shaved heads, the ones who didn’t flinch at the needles and the tubes, who didn’t make a sound when the shocks sent their bodies arching off the table. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Ssh,” she hushed him. He felt her arms wrap around him, pull him close. Her body felt so warm, so soft, smelled so good. “It’s going to be alright, Brian.” Her fingers combed through his hair and he felt the soft brush of her lips against his skin. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

~0~

Brian fell asleep after a while, his body heavy, but Cate held him a little while longer before she extricated herself and eased him a little further onto the bed. He started to stir and she hushed him whispering the sort of comfort words that she seldom if ever voiced and stroking his hair until his breathing evened out again. She pulled the quilted throw over him before she left the room.

She knew she was a mess, blouse damp at the front from a too hot head and a mixture of tears and probably snot. Not all the tears had been Brian’s. She rubbed at the moisture on her own face, unsurprised at the tinge of black from her mascara. She must look a sight, but in the scheme of things what did a spot of snot and some smudged mascara really matter?

She was worried about Jensen. He’d been so concerned when he’d come to find her, so worried that he’d somehow caused Brian to be upset.

She found the two of them sitting in the kitchen, teapot on the table and a waiting cup for her. She could smell the mint from the tea and the honey there to satisfy Jeff’s sweet tooth.

“How is he?” Jeff asked her.

“He’s sleeping now. Would you pour me some tea?” She went over to one of the cupboards and took out a large, round tin which had originally belonged to her great grandmother, before grabbing three plates from the rack.

“I need cake,” she told them, putting the things down on the table and fetching a knife.

“Cate, are  _you_  okay?”

She nodded, taking a seat at the table. “I will be.” She pushed the cake tin and the knife towards Jeff before gratefully accepting her cup of tea from Jensen.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Jensen told her. “Everything seemed fine and then…”

“It wasn’t your fault Jensen. This is all just  _so_  hard for Brian. As bad as life must have been for him at Roche, at least he understood it. He had rules and routines. He didn’t  _have_  to understand what was happening to him, he just had to obey, didn’t have to think. Now he’s here and suddenly everything is different, strange, made worse by drugs that are designed to make it hard for him to think and function the way everyone else does.” She took a sip of her tea. “It’s amazing really that he can cope at all.”

“Will it get better for him?” Jensen asked her.

“I hope so, Jensen. I truly hope so.”

~0~

Jensen came to Lady... to  _Cate's_  house, just about every day to shave Brian. He does a good job of shaving him, better than anyone at Roche ever did, even using a safety razor.

Sometimes he stayed on for a while to speak to Cate. The two of them would sit in her sunshine filled office and talk for an hour or so. Both Jensen and Lady Blanchett have explained that she’s Jensen's therapist. He still wasn’t altogether sure what that means. At first he'd thought she might be some kind of doctor, since doctors had always been the ones to administer therapy to him at Roche, but this  _clearly_  wasn’t the same thing. All she and Jensen did was sit, talk and drink tea. He knew that because he watched them from the couch in the next room, where he has to rest. 

Dr Craig told him that it was important he get plenty of rest during the day. Brian had been having trouble sleeping since he arrived. The nightmares hadn’t helped. He hadn’t told the doctor about the vivid dreams that insisted on staying with him even when he woke up. Except they’re not dreams, and he knew that, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

He was certain Lady Blanchett knew about the nightmares; she had been in his room, and woken him up more than once. She hadn’t mentioned them, at least not yet. He hadn’t told her about the dreams that come in the day, sometimes when he’s wide awake. He had thought about the consequences of not telling her long and hard. He knew it was wrong and the thought made him sick to his stomach, but he was far more afraid of her sending him back. She had said more than once that she wouldn’t do that, and part of him wanted to believe her even though he knew it wasn’t true. Her tolerance of his defects wouldn’t go on much longer. He had been here for days now and she still hadn’t taken him to her bed, still didn’t consider him fit to serve her, and what use was a body slave that didn’t serve? What use was a damaged slave?

She knew about the cramps he got, and had sat with him through the shivers and sweats, noticed the shakes in his hands. There were the splitting headaches too, so bad that they’d made him throw up more than once and leave him feeling drained and exhausted. Dr Craig had explained to him that these things were happening because the dosages of the drugs he took have been reduced, and that the effects of withdrawal would pass, eventually. Having people explain why things had to happen to him was nothing new to Brian, and he knows he had no choice other than to accept whatever it was and the misery that usually came with it. 

Lady Blanchett was insistent about him resting, sleeping if he could, but he tried not to sleep, at least not when Jensen or anyone else was in the house. He was worried that he would talk in his sleep, afraid that the things that haunt his nightmares might spill out when others were around to hear them, so he stayed awake. 

He could never hear what it was that the two of them talked about when Jensen had his therapy, only the occasional word from Lady Blanchett. He never heard anything Jensen said. He’s too softly spoken, trained to be that way. 

Brian could see Jensen’s training in everything he did, even now as he shaved him. Although he didn’t say anything, Brian could see the younger man’s dislike and frustration at having to use a safety razor and not the straight razor that all body slaves are trained to use. He tried not to think about why Jensen wasn’t allowed to use one, just as he tried not to let his eyes or his thoughts linger too long on the knife Lady Blanchett insisted he use to cut his food. 

Brian made a point of studying Jensen. His body language often revealed far more than his words did. It told him that the younger man wasn’t particularly fond of those conversations with Lady Blanchett. He could see the struggle in Jensen to remain poised, hold on to his composure and it makes Brian wondered what they talked about. Sometimes Jensen slipped, lost his control, but only a little. Whoever trained him had trained him well. It wasn’t Jeff Morgan. Even if Lady… if  _Cate_ , hadn’t told him that Jensen hadn’t been with Master Morgan very long he would have known. Training a body slave to a high standard required a great deal of discipline and no one who looked at Jensen the way Jeff Morgan did is capable of that kind of discipline.

 _He’s bound so tightly, barely able to move and even if he could squirm he wouldn’t dare. His ass is throbbing from the beating he had earlier, even the touch of the soft bedcover makes it hurt. Though that’s not the worst thing, it’s not what’s making him choke back his sobs. The hand that keeps stroking his cock and massaging his balls is hurting him too, except… a part of him likes it. He wants it to stop, but he doesn’t. He’s trying hard not to cry, not to beg, because crying makes his master angry and begging, that just makes things worse._   
__

_“An iron fist in a velvet glove, child, it’s an old saying but a true one. You will learn discipline and you will come to appreciate the time and attention I give to you. I promise you that.”_

He shuddered.

“Brian, did I nick you?” Jensen paused in his shaving.

He saw the look of concern on the younger man’s face. “No, I… I was just thinking about something, sorry.”

Jensen nodded but he didn’t resume shaving him. “Is it something you need to speak to Lady Blanchett about?”

Did he really want to tell her what he was dreaming about, about the flashes that were coming even when he was wide awake?

Brian met Jensen’s eyes. “No, please?” He was asking a lot, he knew that.

He gazed at Brian thoughtfully for a moment before he gave him a nod. “I understand.”

They shared a look between them, one that said more than any amount of words.

~0~

“You look terrible, Catey.” Daniel was never one to mince his words; it was a character trait she usually admired in him, but not this morning. “When did you last get some decent sleep?”

“Brian’s had a couple of bad nights,” she admitted. “It’s just wearing on me a little. I’ll be fine.” She gave him a smile that she hoped would satisfy him.

He raised a curious brow. “What kind of bad nights are we talking about?”

“He’s been having some intense nightmares. I’ve taken to pulling up a chair beside the bed. Usually I can soothe him through them without him waking.”

“You should have mentioned it before. It’s a simple enough matter to prescribe some sleeping pills for him, it’s better than you being up half the night.”

“He’s taking so many drugs, I thought it might be better if …” 

“Cate.” She thought she heard a touch of impatience in the sigh that accompanied her name. “The nightmares are pretty much an inevitable side effect of reducing his medication. The pills I can give him will help, they’re not addictive, they’re not going to do him any harm, quite the opposite.”

She should have spoken to him before, she realized that now. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I don’t really know why I didn’t mention it to you, I just… I’m not sure I’ve been thinking straight at all lately.”

Daniel’s blue eyes softened. “I’m not surprised; you look done in, love. Can I offer some advice?”

She smiled at him. “Is this doctor advice or the concerned friend kind?”

“Actually it’s both. Rather than sitting by the bed in the bloody guest room worrying yourself into a breakdown, why don’t you make life easier for both of you and let Brian sleep in your bed?”

“I can’t do that!” The idea was preposterous.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it makes me just like  _them_ ,” she snapped. “Like everyone else who has ever abused and…”

“For Christ’s sake, Cate! I’m not talking about abusing him. We’ve been over this. Brian doesn’t know what normal is. He hasn’t experienced anything like our kind of normal since his parents sold him. His idea of how things should be won’t even come close to anything you or I could imagine. He needs security and comfort. He needs to know he has a place with you. You need to reassure him that you’re not thinking of sending him back or selling him.”

“I reassure him all the time!”

“How on earth can you expect him to believe you when all he’s ever been trained to do is to please and serve his masters and you won’t let him do either?” Daniel ran an agitated hand through his hair. “You have a set of values, Cate, I know that and I love and respect you for having them. Without them you’d never have bought Brian from Roche. The trouble is that, now he’s here, in order to do what’s best for him you’re going to have to rethink those values. If you can’t do that then, in all honesty, you need to sell him and you need to do it quickly.”

“I can’t do that, I won’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s my responsibility.”

“Then get down off the fence, Catey, use all that brilliance, all that passion you have inside you and start dealing with this the way you know you should.”

“Do you two maybe want to keep this down?” Jeff’s voice from the doorway interrupted them. “I can hear you in the next room.” Jeff had brought her a Christmas tree, something he did every year, the fact that he could hear them arguing from the dining room where he’d just put it, wasn’t good. “Do you want to tell me what the hell’s going on between the two of you?”

“We’re arguing because she looks bloody awful.”

Jeff nodded. “You’re not gonna get an argument from me. That it?”

Daniel let out a sigh and sat down on the couch. “I just can’t understand why on earth she’s not sharing her bed with Brian.”

Jeff raised a clearly surprised eyebrow at Cate. “You’re not?”

And suddenly she found herself back on the defensive. “I thought you, of all people, would understand why I can’t do that. I know for a fact that Jensen has his own room.”

“Sure he does,” Jeff admitted. “But I don’t think he’s actually slept there. He hates it.”

“Why?” Daniel asked him, though his eyes never left Cate.

Jeff paused before he answered, rubbing at his beard in that thoughtful way of his. “He doesn’t see it for what I intended it to be, which was a choice for him, a chance for privacy. If I suggested that he sleep in there on his own he’d see it as a punishment or something, a sign that he’d failed me.”

“Yes, but Jensen wanted sexual contact from the beginning,” Cate pointed out.

“And Brian doesn’t?” Daniel asked her.

“Brian isn’t Jensen.”

“No he’s not,” Jeff agreed, “But can you honestly say he’s happier or truly any better off sleeping apart from you? You know this stuff better than I do, Cate.”

“What’s sleeping on his own doing for his sense of self-worth?” Daniel asked her.

“I’m beginning to think I preferred it when the two of you didn’t really like each other.”

Daniel leveled a puzzled expression at Jeff. “When did we not like each other?”

“We didn’t,” Jeff told him. “This is just her using some cheap psychologists trick to deflect our attention.”

“I thought that was just a woman’s trick.”

Jeff chuckled. “You have a point.”

“Either way,” Daniel said, seriously. “It’s not going to work. You have to take a step back from this Catey and look at it the same way you would if Jeff or I had been the one to buy Brian.”

She knew he was right. She had thought about it, couldn’t stop thinking about it. It would be so easy for her just to stay in that bed with Brian. She could see the uncertainty in him, knew that that uncertainty was growing, despite her reassurances.

“I just don’t know if it’s the right thing to do,” she admitted.

“For you or for Brian?” Daniel wanted to know.

“For either of us. I just… I have tried to step back, look at the situation professionally, but…”

“Not so easy, is it?” Jeff offered her a gentle smile.

“No, it’s not. How do you do it Jeff? How can you..?” Cate cut herself short as she saw Jensen and Brian appear in the hallway behind Jeff and pasted on a smile. “Are you two all finished?”

Jensen nodded. “All done.”

“Might have to let you shave me when we get back,” Jeff grinned fondly at Jensen as he moved aside to let them both into the room.

Jensen leveled critical eyes at Jeff’s beard. “A shave would be good. Kane was beginning to wonder if your plan was to dye it white for Christmas.”

“He was, huh?”

“Sam thinks you must be going to dress up for Bodhi, she says that would explain the amount of cake you were sneaking out of the kitchen.”

“Everyone eats a little extra over Christmas,” he defended. “It’s traditional.”

“It’s not Christmas yet.” Jensen pointed out, a shy but teasing smile in those clear green eyes of his. Cate couldn’t help but be impressed by how far he’d come since those first stress filled weeks with Jeff.

“It’s less than a week away.”

“But Sam said…”

“Hey, Brian,” Jeff neatly closed the subject, leveling a smile at Brian, who was standing behind Jensen, eyes downcast. “The hair looks good.”

Cate watched Brian run an awkward hand over his hair. Jensen had trimmed it today, as well as giving him a shave. It looked really good, more stylish than it had before.

“Do you like it, Brian?” She asked him.

He met her eyes. “If it pleases you, my lady.”

She tried hard not to let her smile slip as Brian’s simple reply echoed what Daniel had been saying about his sense of self worth. 

“I like it.” Cate told him. 

He took her approval with what might just be a flash of pleasure as he moved closer to the couch where she was sitting. She patted the cushion and he came to sit, stiffly, beside her. She knew he wanted to kneel, knew he was uncomfortable sitting by her side, especially when anyone else was in the house. She reached out and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“We need to get back I promised Bodhi a Christmas shopping trip,” Jeff told her. “I was thinking though, on the subject of Christmas. Are you sticking around or..?”

“I’m not going to New York, I don’t think Brian’s up to that kind of upheaval just yet.” She looked at Daniel for confirmation.

“I wouldn’t advise it.” Daniel smiled, raising a curious brow. “I take it your mother’s disappointed?”

Cate blanched. “She probably will be.”

“You haven’t told her yet?” Jeff was clearly surprised. 

“It hasn’t really been high on my list of priorities,” she told him, which was true to some extent. She hadn’t been in contact with her parents at all since she brought Brian home. Buying a slave, explaining her decision to buy Brian in particular, was a conversation she’d been avoiding. She’d turned avoiding difficult conversations with her family into something of an art form. 

Jeff gave her a look that she couldn’t read before he shrugged his shoulders. “Well I figured you might be sticking around so I wondered if you’d like to spend the holiday at my place. Good food, decent company, nothing too intense for Brian to deal with.”

Cate gave him a grateful smile. The idea held more than a little appeal but she knew she had to think of Brian first. “It would be easy enough for us to come home if there was a problem,” she admitted. “Daniel?”

“I’ll still need to see Brian, but it sounds like a good idea to me.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Jeff invited.

“My housekeeper’s had Christmas planned for weeks, so no, but thanks.”

Jeff nodded. “Cate?”

She gazed at Brian for a moment before coming to a decision. Her smile a grateful one. “We’d love to Jeff, thanks.”

~0~

Brian’s nightmares seemed to be getting progressively worse. He had at least one every night. Cate could almost time them now. It took about forty-five minutes from him settling down to sleep for the dreams to start.

“ _Please_.” 

For someone who said so very little during the day Brian had plenty to say for himself when he was dreaming. It was always like this, quiet at first, just the odd word slipping out. His dreams seemed to be very intense and vivid. Almost all of them turning into nightmares. It was only when he slept that Brian’s voice rose from its usual soft, dry whisper and became loud murmurs and broken words that increased in volume, eventually becoming unintelligible, but not tonight. Tonight the words were clear. 

“I just wanna go back. Please? My dad’s gonna be coming for me…”

“He didn’t sell me! You’re lying, you’re  _fucking_  lying! It’s not true, it’s not, not…”

Cate moved from her chair to settle on top of the bed and began stroking his hair and talking to him, reassuring him he was safe. Her touch and her voice had calmed him on previous nights, and he’d eventually settled down, but it wasn’t working this time. 

“It’s not true, my dad’s gonna come for me, you’ll see. I’m good now, I’m good.” He was bathed in sweat, tossing and turning in endless agitation. 

“Ssh, Brian. It’s okay, just a dream, just a bad dream,” she whispered softly.

“Don’t let him do it. I don’t want to. Make him stop, please?” His eyes snapped open and he was looking right at her, but Cate wasn’t sure who he was seeing, doubted he even knew where he was.

“No one’s going to hurt you, Brian, not anymore. You’re safe here, you just need to sleep.”

“He’s hurting me, it  _hurts_! You have to make him stop,  _please_!!” He was begging her, his eyes bright, shining with fear as his hand reached out to grasp at her pajama top. It only lasted a moment and then he released his hold, collapsing back onto the pillows and sobbing desperately. He sounded so young and he’d mentioned his dad. According to his provenance Brian had been sold by his father and stepmother when he was eight in order to settle a family debt.

“Where are you Brian?” Cate asked him. “Do you know where you are?”

“I-I don’t know, I don’t like it here,  _I_...” She saw the moment he came back to himself, the sharp realization in his eyes.

“You’re safe now Brian,” she repeated, taking his hand and holding it in hers.

“I-I’m sorry, Lady Blanchett,” He stammered out. “I…” 

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him. “These dreams you’re having, they’re memories aren’t they?”

It was the first time he’d hesitated before answering her, staring at her silently for a moment before nodding.

“What were you remembering just now, can you tell me?” She could see his reluctance but she pressed on. “I know that’s a hard thing for you to do, but trust me, talking about these things will help.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Talk to me, Brian.”

She saw him swallow, saw his eyes leave hers and focus somewhere just over her shoulder. “It, it was mixed up. I-I thought that when they took me out of Commerce school I’d be able to go home. I thought my dad would come for me, I didn’t…” He paused, biting down on his bottom lip.

“You didn’t  _know_  that they’d sold you?” She couldn’t hide her surprise.

He shook his head. “I didn’t believe them, the other kids at the school. Still didn’t believe it when they took me to the Escrow house. I thought they were lying, didn’t understand why I was there. I… I didn’t really let myself believe it was true until h- _he_  showed me the bill of sale.” He met her eyes. “Why would my dad do that?”

Though Cate knew it was common, that it was something that many poor families with too many mouths to feed were often forced into doing, she still couldn’t imagine how any parent could do that.

“From what I understand your family was in a lot of debt with no way to pay. The whole family would probably have been taken, split up and sold individually. I know it doesn’t excuse what they did…”

“They must have hated me, huh? I always thought that my dad lov…” He swallowed, shaking his head, not looking at her. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you hate them for what they did?”

A deep frown furrowed his brow. “I-I guess I should. I used to, but… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay. There’s no right or wrong answer, Brian.”

“Feels like there should be.”

She nodded. “Can you tell me what else you were dreaming about? You said the dream was mixed up.”

“I was in the limousine, after we left the Escrow house. It was the first time, but he…”

“He?” Cate prompted. “You keep saying he, Brian. Who are you talking about?” She had a pretty good idea who  _he_  was but Brian was clearly reluctant to say the name.

“Lord…” He struggled to get the name out. “Mmm-Malkovich, my first time with him, it didn’t happen the way it did in the dream. The first time he fucked me wasn’t that night in the car, it was later after he’d… H-he built me up to that. In the car that first night he just…” He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. “He didn’t fuck me then, the dream was mixed up.”

He was crying, a steady stream of silent tears, and it was taking Cate every ounce of willpower not to cry with him. She ached to reach out, smooth the tears away but she wasn’t sure he was even aware that he was crying. She released his hands instead and rubbed his arm slowly.

“Can you tell me what  _did_  happen in the car that night?”

“I-I wanted my dad, didn’t want to go with him because my dad wouldn’t be able to find me. I fought him but he… He bared my ass, put me over his knee. Spanked me so hard I could barely breathe and then he… It was just his finger that night, it hurt but… He didn’t fuck me.”

“You must have been frightened.”

He nodded.

“As frightened as you were the first time he took you?”

“N-No,” he bit at his lip again, shaking his head. “I was scared all that day, didn’t sleep the night before.”

“He  _told_  you what he was going to do?” She tried to keep her voice even, hide the revulsion she was feeling, but wasn’t sure she’d succeeded.

“He…” Brian reached a tentative hand up to rub at his own eyes. “He said that something as important as my first time shouldn’t be rushed. I-I had to be thoroughly prepared. I had a lot to learn before he... Before he did that to me.”

“But he hurt you that first time?” 

He nodded, hand wiping self-consciously at his face. “It was my special day, he said. They; all the staff, everyone, had to be there. He made me face outwards so they could see me on his lap, watch him f-fuck me. It hurt s- _so_  bad. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t, he… One of the kitchen slaves, sh-she was new, they said that she cried the whole time, I don’t really remember but…” He shook his head. “L-Lord Malkovich said she’d ruined my special day, took the crop to her, messed up her face. M-my fault.”

“No!  _No_ , Brian, it wasn’t your fault.”

“It just… I wanted to make it stop, I didn’t understand,” he told her.

“What didn’t you understand?”

“It doesn’t stop, never stops, and there’s nothing you can do to make it.”

~0~

Brian hadn’t thought about his dad in a long time, years maybe, he’d barely thought about his step mom and the twins at all and struggled now to remember how they looked. He could remember that day though, when the people from Commerce had come to their draughty, rented apartment. He could remember that as clearly as though it was yesterday.

Four of them had come, three men and a woman, all dressed in somber suits. He'd seen his dad in a suit once, he'd borrowed it from John, his brother-in-law, when he'd had to go to court. It had been a poor fit and his dad hadn't looked happy that day. 

Looking back he realized that his parents had been expecting the visit from Commerce; just the three of them were at home that day, his stepbrother and sister had been sent to stay at his Uncle John's place the night before. It was the first time Brian could remember having the bath to himself and the water had been hotter than usual. Heating the water cost more than they could comfortably afford, a fact that his stepmother constantly reminded them of and having this luxury all to himself had seemed odd. His step mom had cut his hair too, and made him trim his nails and toenails. 

She’d been busy that day; cleaned their place from top to bottom once the twins had gone then she and his dad had dressed in their best things. He’d only been eight at the time but he’d noticed how awkward the two of them looked, out of place somehow. They’d gone quiet too, barely talking, and not arguing the way they usually did.

Brian hadn’t understood who the visitors were, he’d just sat there uncomfortably in his too tight shirt while they talked to his mom and dad, asked them lots of questions. They'd asked Brian questions too, about his family, even about his first mom who had died. He didn’t remember much about her even then, just the color of her hair, the touch of her lashes on his face when she held him, little things. They’d had nice house with a yard back then, he remembered that and his dad had been a fisherman. He remembered having a puppy too but couldn’t recall what had happened to it. 

They’d asked him about home and school. The woman had tested him on his school work, checking his mental maths and spellings. Brian was good at school, a fast learner. The woman told his mom that they'd spoken to his teachers, that they were happy with his progress. Less happy with his behavior, Brian had been in trouble a lot back then.

One of the men who came turned out to be a doctor. It had shocked Brian that a doctor was there to see him. His mom and dad had always worried about the cost of any of them getting sick, of having to visit the doctor, he’d never heard of one visiting someone at home. He’d had to go out into the kitchen with the doctor and his dad, strip down to his under things. He hadn’t wanted to do that but he always did what his dad told him. 

It had been the first physical Brian had ever had and it had really scared him especially when the doctor had examined his cock and balls then made him bend over and touch his toes so he could look at his anus. He’d sensed his dad’s discomfort too, even though he hadn’t said anything. 

The doctor had been pleased, Brian remembered, and the woman had joined them in the kitchen, taken some photographs of him without his clothes on; face, front and back, for their records. She taken his palm prints too on a machine like the ones they’d had in the school canteen if the state paid for your lunch. The state had bought a lot of lunches at Brian’s school.

He remembered going back into the other room and watching as his dad signed lots of papers. His dad hadn’t wanted to sign at first not until his stepmom had pulled him into a corner, spoken to him. He hadn’t been able to hear what they were saying but it was clear the words had been sharp. Eventually though his dad had gone back and signed the papers. 

The letter had come a week later, he remembered his step-mom crying and smiling at the same time, his dad hadn’t smiled, had barely spoken after that, except to Brian. He remembered his dad taking him to one side that night after coming in with his breath smelling of booze. He’d explained that Brian had got a place at a special school, told him how lucky he was. 

His dad had taken him to the school. It was in the big city, a place he’d never been before. They'd gone there on the train. He’d been upset when his dad had explained that he'd have to sleep there, it being so far away. 

The woman who had come to the house was at the school when he arrived, she’d taken him to a room and given him pajamas to put on. She’d taken away his old clothes, the battered bear he liked to sleep with and the only photograph he’d ever seen of his real mom with his dad. He never saw those things again.

Brian had tried at the school; worked hard to learn everything they taught him.   
He’d done his best to behave hoping that if he did everything they said he’d be able to go back home. He was sure, at least at first, that he’d been sent there because he’d gotten into trouble at his old school, that that was why they wouldn't let him see his parents. Why this school was so strict.

He had tried to obey all their rules, but still seemed to spend more time than any of the other kids in the discipline unit. It was only in there that he’d broken down, screamed and cried for his dad to come, to stop the hurt, take him home.

  
Brian could hear choked sobs and it took a while for him to realize that those sounds were coming from him, that he wasn’t back there at the Commerce school.

He stared up into Lady Blanchett’s concerned face, realizing where he was and what had just happened, with dawning fear.

He tried to stammer out an apology but the words wouldn’t come out right.

“Ssh,” she hushed him. “It’s okay, Brian. You’re okay.” Her fingers traced smooth repetitive strokes across his cheek and through his hair as she sat beside him on the bed. “I’m going to fetch you something to help you sleep, something the doctor left for you. Just try and relax, okay?”

“Yes, my lady.” He croaked out the words, his voice as hoarse as if those remembered screams from back then had only just been torn from him.

He barely felt a moment pass before the bed was dipping beside him and she was back, helping him to sit up, giving him a pill to take and holding the glass of water for him as he drank, his own hands shaking too badly for him to hold it himself.

“Sleep now,” she told him, touching those cool, gentle fingers to his face once more as he lay down. “There won’t be any more dreams, just rest.”

The soothing touch continued even as he felt himself start to drift away.

~0~

Brian was finally sleeping. She’d given him one of the sleeping pills Daniel had left for him. Cate had seriously considered taking one herself, she was half afraid that what Brian had told her would follow her into her own dreams. She felt tired down to her bones, totally drained. She knew tonight had been a breakthrough of sorts, the first night that she’d been able to coax Brian into talking about his nightmares. It was probably the longest conversation the two of them had had, but then his guard had never been down like that before. Professionally she was pleased with this first step forward, but the price had been high for Brian. Her own exhaustion couldn’t compare to his. 

The barbarism of Malkovich assaulting Brian, who was still just a child, in the car like that was horrific enough, but the fact that the man had later raped him in front of the entire household… How could anyone do that? How could society allow such a thing?

Brian’s words came back to haunt her.

 _“It doesn’t stop, never stops, and there’s nothing you can do to make it.”_

She doubted she’d ever get those words, or that look of utter defeat on his face as he said them, out of her mind. 

She padded into the kitchen, feeling her own tears welling up again inside her. As tired as her body was, she wouldn’t be able to sleep unless her mind slowed down a little, stopped running and running through the terrible images Brian’s words had put in her mind. A large Brandy seemed like a good idea, though this late at night, technically, it probably wasn’t. She made herself some coco instead.

She took it through to the lounge, curling her feet up on the couch. She almost spilled it when the phone started to ring.

She was tempted to ignore it but she didn’t want anything to break through the haze of medication and to disturb Brian, plus she had a fairly good idea who it would probably be. Only one person would phone at this time and there was a certain irony in that happening tonight, of all nights.

“Hello?”

“Cate, how are you darling?”

She let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Mother, hello.”

“My but we are being formal. What are you up to?”

“Not a lot, it’s two-thirty in the morning,” Cate told her.

“Oh damn, I’ve done it again haven’t I? Your father and I have been to for dinner, I didn’t realize the time. Did I wake you darling, I’m sorry?”

“I’m still up, as it happens.”

“You sound tired.”

“I am, I just…”

“Too busy thinking to sleep?”

Cate smiled. “How did you guess?”

“I know you too well. So how are you? It’s been a while since you called, I’ve been a little worried.”

Cate knew that was true. For every fault she could so easily point to in her parents a lack of love for her wasn’t one of them and she couldn’t help the guilt that welled up inside of her.“I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been caught up in things. What about you? How are you and how is daddy?”

“You know your father, every year he insists we spend Christmas in New York and then complains about the weather, silly man.” She laughed. “I’m fine. Did I tell you I’d taken up Pilates?”

“No, you didn’t. I hear it’s…”

“I ran into Marcia Witherspoon after class this week. She invited me to lunch. She really is the most insufferable woman; I don’t know why I bother with her. If not for the fact that your father and Donald have been friends for years I wouldn’t give her the time of day. How could a man marry so badly and yet still produce a child as lovely as Reese? I really don’t know. That woman can be so vile, she…” There was a break in her mother’s voice. “She claims you’ve bought a body slave. I knew she was wrong, of course, so I didn’t argue the point. I just let the foolish woman ramble on. I knew that if you’d done something like that you would have been in touch, told me…”

“I-I did, I…” It came out as almost a whisper, the guilt eating away at her voice.

“Why would she make something like that up?”

“Mom, you’re not listening. I went with Reese to the Roche Academy; she was looking for someone to replace Joshua.”

“I know there has been a lot of pressure on Reese. As much as I love Donald, he and Marcia are very traditional, very set in their ways. The social stigma involved wasn’t something they…”

“Mom, please!” Cate pleaded, cutting her off, knowing that her mother had heard everything she’d said, that she’d only kept up the flow of words to hide her disappointment. “I was the one.”

For a long silent moment she thought her mother had hung up on her. 

“You’ve made a bid on someone, Catey?”

“No, no Escrow or anything. I just bought him.”

“A body slave?”

“I couldn’t leave him there.” The words came out before she could stop them and she felt tears well up in her eyes, spill onto her cheeks before she could stop them. “I couldn’t just walk away. If you’d been there, if you’d seen…” The floodgates reopened and she couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop talking as the words tripped over each other in her rush to get them out. “I couldn’t just leave him there, I just couldn’t and now I… I thought I was doing the right thing, but he’s so broken. What if I can’t fix him? We’re… he’s so lost. I can barely look after myself, what possessed me to think that I could  _possibly_  take care of another human being?”

“Wait, just slow down Catey, let me try and understand,” she said softly. “You bought a body slave directly from Roche, is that what you’re saying?”

Cate sniffed, wiping clumsily at her eyes. “I did, yes.”

“And he’s…” Her mother hesitated. “He’s damaged in some way?”

“They were using him as a horse, that’s a…”

“I’m afraid I know what a horse is, go on, darling.”

“They’ve broken him, kept him drugged and…” She shook her head, words gone.

“Oh Cate! I… How old is he?”

“Thirty five. He was a body slave before but he ran away from his master.”

“And they caught him, of course.”

Cate found herself nodding. “Yes, they sent him back but…” Did she really want to tell her mother the rest?

“But?”

“He tried to kill himself.”

 _“It doesn’t stop, never stops, and there’s nothing you can do to make it.”_

“Oh, my dear.” Her mother’s sigh was loud. “I can understand the sentiment Cate. I really can, but… Do you have  _any_  help in looking after him?”

“Daniel has taken him as a patient. In all honesty I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

“Daniel?”

“Daniel Craig, the doctor, you remember?” The two of them had met and she knew her mother had been impressed, hopeful.

“The Englishman, with the lovely blue eyes, I do remember him, yes. Are you and he together again?” There it was that hopeful note in her mother’s voice that was impossible to miss.

“We’re just friends now, nothing more. Jeff Morgan’s been helping too, of course.”

“He’s a good man.” Not husband material, not in her mother’s eyes. She’d never once thought to ask her why. “Is there anything your father and  _I_  can do?”

“I’ll be fine, I just need to…” She shook her head not wanting to look at her list of failings too closely. “Things are getting better,” She substituted, praying her mother wouldn’t hear the lie.

“There must be something, Catey, some extra help around the house perhaps? You can’t expect to be able to do everything yourself.”

“I don’t, I use an agency, they’re very good.”

“An  _agency_ , Catey, when you…”

“You need to understand mother,” Cate cut her off. “I bought Brian to help  _him_ , I didn’t buy him for me. My beliefs, my principals, haven’t suddenly changed.”

“I’m not looking to fight you on this, darling. I’m just looking for ways I can  _help_  you,” her mother said softly. “What about Christmas? Are you bringing Brian here for Christmas?”

Cate felt the tears springing up again at the offer. “Brian really isn’t well enough, Daniel has advised against it, otherwise we would have come.” She hated the lie, even as she said it. “We’re going to stay with Jeff Morgan over the Christmas holiday, until the second.” 

“As long as you’re doing something. You’ll phone on Christmas Day?” There was uncertainty in her mother’s voice, and it hurt Cate to hear it.

“Yes,” she assured her. “Of course I will.”

“I have gifts, but I can send those by courier, now I know when you’re back at the house.”

“You’re not angry with me?” She had to know.

“Oh Catey, I may not entirely agree with your beliefs but that doesn’t make me any less proud of you for having them.”

Cate smiled despite her tears. “I love you, you and Daddy.”

“We love you too darling. Now you enjoy your Christmas and tell Jeffrey Morgan that I expect him to take extra special care of you.”

“I will, and I’ll phone you on Christmas Day, I promise.”

“I’ll talk to you then. Take care darling.”

“You too, bye Mom.”

“Bye bye.”

  
~0~

  
Brian didn’t remember too much about that first journey from Roche to Lady Blanchett’s house. He could remember the sunlight and the bright colors, he could remember seeing people, ordinary people, going about their day to day lives, but other than the film theatre he couldn’t remember any building they’d passed, any view or landmark. What was vivid about it was the blue of the sky and the greenery that had convinced him that he wasn’t dreaming, he really was outside for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime.

The outdoors were accessible to him now, his walk around the garden was something Lady Blanchett liked him do every day and they often ate outside. He couldn’t take it for granted though; it could be taken away from him in an instant so he savored every moment spent in the open air.

Apart from that first journey from Roche, this was his first car ride since she’d bought him. Lady Blanchett didn’t seem to own a limousine, there was no chauffer to drive one, even if she had. She was the one to drive, hands sure and competent on the wheel of the sleek Mercedes Coupe as it ate up the quiet roads around her home. 

Since Jeff Morgan had invited the two of them to spend the Christmas holiday with him, the days had been busy ones. Despite the fact that they won’t be staying at Lady Blanchett’s house it’s been decorated for Christmas. He helped her with the trimming of the tree, something she preferred to do rather than trust the agency. He remembers Christmas trees in other houses, huge elaborate things, but never trimming one before, so maybe this was something new for him. He couldn’t be sure. He’d enjoyed helping her, despite the embarrassing shaking of his hands and how exhausted he’d felt afterwards, even though he’d done so little. 

He’d helped her unpack the baubles from a closet in one of the spare bedrooms, and then laid them out in the dining room. Some of them looked fairly new but there were others that had been carefully wrapped in tissue. He hadn’t dared to touch those. Lady Blanchett had unwrapped them with surprising reverence, explaining that these had been her grandmother’s, telling him about the ranch in Australia she remembered visiting when she was very small and of the sprawling mansion in New York where she’d played games of hide and seek with her sister and cousins, searching for wardrobes that opened into other worlds. There was so much in what she told him that he didn’t understand but her affection for her grandmother stood out clearly.

He enjoyed listening to her stories. He liked the way she spoke to him, as though he was something, someone… as though he mattered. He studied her carefully as she spoke, she had an expressive face with bright, beautiful eyes and a large mouth that smiled so perfectly or laughed that happy, joyous laugh of hers. He enjoyed hearing her laugh, liked the way it made him feel.

There had been lots of deliveries made to the house, gifts she ordered for people he didn’t know who would be at Jeff Morgan’s home over the holidays. A lot of people, if the beautifully wrapped gifts that had been delivered were anything to go by. New clothes had arrived for him too, despite the fact that he’d barely worn half of the things Jensen had chosen for him. 

There was one delivery that hadn’t been a Christmas gift. It had arrived by courier, Brian had seen it arrive, had seen Lady Blanchett open the package to reveal a velvet case inside, one she had opened and inspected before closing it and placing it on the bureau. Brian didn’t know what was in it, at least not until just before they packed the car that morning.

His collar.

He had been nervous about travelling. He remembered the law, knew that slaves were required to wear a collar whenever they were in public. He was beginning to wonder if she’d forgotten. An owner could be fined for allowing a slave out without a collar and the slave could be taken into custody, held at a Corrections center until the fine was paid. He had recollections of being held in Corrections -- they weren’t pleasant and he didn’t want to go back there again. 

When she retrieved the case from the dresser, she asked him to kneel, something she’d been actively discouraging him from doing, and it had felt a little strange. Her fingers were cool and soft on his skin as she slipped the collar around his neck. He hadn’t really had a chance to look at it but he still recognized that it was an expensive piece of jewelry, the metal silky and heavy against his skin, the lock clicking smoothly and neatly into place with a snick as she turned the key and pocketed it.

Wearing the collar feels good, comforting, and he can’t resist touching it or the temptation to let his eyes cut from the passing beauty of the scenery to his collar’s reflection in the car’s side window. It’s white gold, or possibly even platinum, intricate and tasteful from what he can see of it. It made him feel strangely hopeful.

The journey to Jeff Morgan’s only took thirty minutes or so. The man had money that much was clear, even if he didn’t have a title. His sprawling house, with a wealth of outbuildings, was set in the middle of what seemed to be a sizeable estate. Brian supposed that any man who could afford a body slave of Jensen’s caliber couldn’t be short of money.

As they pulled in, he couldn’t hide a shudder of apprehension. He wished Lady Blanchett had chosen to spend the holiday in her own home, the thought of being here among strangers made him nervous. He was afraid he’d embarrass her in front of these people which may well be the last straw if he did, the thing that causes her to say enough is enough.

“Here we are,” she told him.

There were at least a half dozen cars there, none of them the truck Jeff Morgan usually drives, or the SUV he’s seen Jensen use.

He’s startled when he feels her hand cover his and squeeze it gently. “Are you okay, Brian?”

He tries to pull up a smile for her but he knows he doesn’t quite pull it off. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

“Cate,” she reminded him, with a smile.

“Cate,” he repeated.

“I know that being here isn’t going to be easy for you, but these are all good people. You have nothing to worry about, you’re safe here.”

Brian didn’t think any slave could feel, let alone be, safe but he nodded nevertheless.

“Did Dr Craig explain to you this morning that we won’t be seeing him tomorrow?”

“Yes, my lady.” His check up had taken longer than usual this morning. It had been almost as thorough as when he’d first arrived at Lady Blanchett’s, though happily without the internal exam.

“That makes it doubly important that you let me know if you’re feeling anxious or unwell, and you can always speak to Jeff or Jensen.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure about speaking to Jeff Morgan. The man always spoke to him and his eyes seemed as friendly as his words, but the man wasn’t a slave, he was Jensen’s master. Brian was certain there were rules about approaching another master, but he just couldn’t remember what they were. He would have to ask Jensen; Jensen would know the proper etiquette.

“Brian?” Lady Blanchett’s voice, her sudden squeeze of his hand, startled him. He looked up at her, realizing he’d drifted off into his own thoughts again.

“I’m s-sorry, my lady,” he told her quickly. Lack of attention seldom went unpunished.

“What were you thinking about?” she asked him. She didn’t seem angry.

“A-about speaking to M-master Morgan,” he admitted.

She frowned a little. “Does speaking to Jeff worry you?”

“A little,” he nodded. “I… I don’t remember how. Th-the right way to do it,” he added quickly.

“Well we can find that out,” she assured him with a gentle smile. “But I want you to promise me that while we’re here, if you have a problem and there’s no one else around whom you feel you can speak to you’ll talk to Jeff, tell him what’s wrong. I’ll let him know that those are the instructions I’ve given you. Is that okay?”

He nodded obediently. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

They were getting their things out of the trunk when they were joined by Master Morgan. He wasn’t wearing his usual jeans; instead he wore a pair of rumpled linen slacks and a collarless shirt.

“Hey, Cate.” He caught her up in a hug, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

Lady Blanchett smiled at him, kissing him back.

“Brian,” he gave Brian one of those easy smiles of his. “It’s nice to have you here.”

He kept his eyes lowered respectfully. “Thank you, sir.”

“Are we the last to arrive?” Lady Blanchett asked Morgan.

“Technically everyone’s arrived, it’s just that no one’s actually here. Ever noticed there was going to be a Christmas parade as she passed through town, so she’s taken Bodhi to see it and dragged pretty much everyone else along. She thought it might be easier if you got settled in while it was quiet.”

“She’s an angel.”

He raised a clearly amused brow. “Ever?”

Lady Blanchett threw her head back and laughed. “So who is here, apart from you, of course?”

“Jensen’s here, he’s giving Sam a hand, dealing with all the non-cooking stuff, he’s pretty much unflappable when it comes to this kind of thing.”

“So you’ve left them to it?” she chastised.

“Ordered out of their hair.” He shrugged. “I swear Jensen was muttering something about hindrance and liability under his breath. Sam just ordered me the hell out before I messed everything up. So here I am. Let me help you get your things inside.” He frowned suddenly, teeth coming down to gnaw at his bottom lip. “You sure you’re okay about the sleeping arrangements? I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing the issue. I could have the boys bring up another bed up if you…”

“We’ll be fine,” She cut him off. “This is something of a trial run.”

“Okay, but if there’s a problem just let me know.” He turned his attention to the bags in the trunk. “You sure you’re just staying for the week?”

“I came prepared, and there are gifts.”

A grin that wouldn’t be out of place on a young child lit up Morgan’s face. “Is there one for me?”

“I don’t know, have you been good or bad this year?”

“I’m always good.”

There was something about being good or bad at Christmas, something Brian thought he ought to remember but struggled once again to bring to mind. He tried to remember what it was as he followed them inside, carrying a small share of the luggage and trying to hide his surprise that Lady Blanchett and Jeff Morgan insisted on carrying the majority of the bags between them.

Morgan’s house seemed even larger inside, a maze of spacious looking rooms. The bedrooms were on the second floor and Morgan led them up, talking all the time.

“The two of you are next to Jensen and I, in here,” he announced, opening a door for them at the end of a long hallway and taking his share of the bags inside. “It should be a little quieter here, away from the other guest rooms. If there’s anything you need just give me a yell, I’ll be downstairs.”

“What time are we eating?” Lady Blanchett wanted to know.

“About eight, or so I’m told.”

She nodded. “I think we’ll unpack and then Brian should rest for a while before we get ready, it’s been a hectic morning.”

Morgan gave her a smile “You need anything?”

“No,” she smiled. “We’re fine.”

“How about some tea later?”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“Okay, I’ll see you both later.” Morgan’s smile rested on Brian and he dropped his eyes at once, resisting the urge to kneel but clasping his hands behind his back all the same. “Things can get a little loud here, Brian, but everyone’s friendly.”

“Brian wasn’t sure about speaking to you if he was anxious about anything or feeling unwell. He’s not sure of the right way to do that,” Lady Blanchett explained, and Brian felt his face flush. “I’ve given him my permission to approach you and speak to you if ever he needs to. Is that okay?”

He felt the man’s dark gaze rest on him once more. “Hey, that’s fine, Brian. You can ask me or tell me anything you need to, any time, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded obediently. He knew he’d still speak to Jensen about it, the idea of speaking to any master, other than his own, sent an unexplained shiver of fear down his spine.

~0~

It wasn’t until Jeff left that Brian relaxed a little. He was nervous around other people, wary of everyone, and Cate knew that, to some extent, that included her. She watched as his bright eyes took in the room. She wasn’t sure if he’d understood any of the conversation she’d had with Jeff about the bed, but she saw the flicker of his lashes when he noticed the large, solitary bed, followed by the bob of his Adam’s-apple. For a moment she toyed with the idea of discussing their change of sleeping arrangements with him, but then thought better of it. She doubted a master would usually discuss sleeping arrangements with a slave; the slave would simply do as instructed. That was what Brian would expect so that’s what she would try and give him.

“We should get unpacked,” she announced.

“I c-could do that, my lady,” Brian said quietly. “I-I know how,” he explained. “I remember.”

“You haven’t really had a rest yet today.”

“I-I’m not tired.” 

Cate wasn’t sure how honest he was being, she knew the stammer only came on when he was either tired or nervous, and she suspected that right at this moment it was probably a mixture of both. She knew she had to give him the chance to do things for her, that it would go a long way towards restoring his sense of self worth, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Okay, Brian, but if you start to feel tired I want you to promise me that you’ll stop right away and get some rest, lay down for a while.”

He nodded. “I will, my lady.”

“In that case I’m going to go and say a quick hello to Sam, Jeff’s housekeeper. I won’t be very long.”

Leaving him to it wasn’t easy, but she forced herself to leave, wandering down to the kitchen to find Sam.

The aroma in the kitchen was heavenly, a mix of savory, spicy and sweet that made her mouth water. It reminded her of time spent at any one of her grandmother’s houses. Christmas always made her think about her grandmother; she had loved the holiday so much, always made a huge thing of it. Sam Ferris reminded Cate of her in many ways. Despite being an incredibly wealthy woman Elise, her grandmother, had never been the type who left things to others, everything had always been hands on. She’d worked as hard as any of the hands she’d employed back on the ranch in Australia, her skin had been darkly tanned from hours spent outdoors, her hands callused and roughened from hard work. They called her eccentric whenever she came over to the US. Cate’s mother came from a titled American family, not as wealthy as the Blanchett’s, but with an equally impressive pedigree. She’d never found it easy to cope with Elise and her grandmother had never been particularly impressed with what she called her son’s pampered, air-headed, choice of a wife. 

Her grandmother was a brilliant woman, when her health had started to fail and she’d made the permanent move from Australia to the estate in New York she’d still managed to run the families business empire and oversee their investments abroad. At the same time she’d thought nothing of donning an apron and setting to work in the kitchen. She’d always loved to cook, cracking jokes with the kitchen slaves, much to the consternation of both family and friends. Not to Cate though, Cate had always loved her all the more for it. How many times had she heard her mother blame her lack of conformity on her grandmother’s influence?

She wondered what her grandmother would have made of Brian, what she would have thought of Cate buying him?

“Penny for them?”

Cate turned at Sam’s voice, gave the older woman a smile.

“This all looks impressive. How long have you been working?”

Sam smiled back. “Not too long to be honest, though don’t tell Jeff that.” She laughed. “The trick is to plan ahead. Plus I’ve got Jensen to help me out, that boy’s a genius when it comes to getting things organized, don’t know how I ever coped without him.” She walked over, enveloping Cate in a hug. “So how are you? Jeff told me what you did, saving that poor boy. It was a good thing, honey. Your grandmother would be damn proud of you.”

“Are you adding psychic to your talents? I was just thinking about her. She loved Christmas.”

“I remember. I’ll never forget being invited to the house in New York that year, renting that damn ball gown, I don’t think I ever bought a dress that cost me that much!” she laughed. “I don’t know who it was I was expecting to meet, who I thought was behind all those donations to the Foundation, but it sure as hell wasn’t anyone like Elise. You know I still make those cranberry cookies, from the recipe she gave me, every year. Why don’t we both have one with a nice cup of coffee?”

“I shouldn’t be too long.” Cate told her. “I left Brian alone to unpack and everything is strange for him here, he…”

“You can stay long enough for coffee. We can send Jensen up if you’re worried. A little break won’t hurt; it seems to me like you could use one.”

“What’s Jeff been saying?” Cate asked her as she took a seat at the kitchen counter.

“Nothing I wouldn’t have noticed for myself, or expected from you. So tell me about Brian,” she urged, bringing over the coffee pot and a couple of mugs. “What’s he like?” She left Cate to pour the coffee while she retrieved a cookie jar from one of the cupboards.

“He’s…” She paused as she poured the coffee, adding cream but no sugar to Sam’s. “It’s hard to put into words when you ask like that,” Cate admitted. “He’s confused, afraid, so lost Sam, he…” She choked on the words, couldn’t get them out, she could feel the onset of tears prickling behind her eyes.

“Jeff said those people had messed him up,” Sam said quietly, resting a hand over Cate’s on the countertop and squeezing gently. “He didn’t go into any detail, you know Jeff.”

She didn’t answer right away, not until she’d calmed down a little, pushed back the tears.

“It’s not a pretty story.”

Sam sighed. “They never are, honey. Every time I think I’ve heard the worst of it something else comes along that makes me wonder at the depths mankind can sink to.” She shook her head before offering Cate a cookie from the jar. “Why don’t you tell me about Brian?”

~0~

Ninety minutes! She shouldn’t have left Brian alone for ninety minutes, not in a strange place. She raced up the stairs almost knocking into Jensen at the top of the staircase and overbalancing.

“Cate?” He smiled, grabbing her elbow quickly to stop her from taking a tumble.

“God, Jensen, I’m sorry, I… I’ve been downstairs having coffee with Sam and I…”

“I know, I passed the door earlier. I looked in on Brian for you about fifteen minutes ago,” he told her gently. “He’s fine; he’s asleep on top of the bed.”

“Thank you, Jensen. I didn’t intend to leave him along for so long.”

“I wanted to say hello to him anyway, see if he was okay. Jeff says that’s the kind of thing friends do.”

“Friends?” she asked him curiously.

“I like Brian. I think maybe he needs a friend, someone who…” He frowned, suddenly looking a little guilty.

“Tell me what you were going to say,” Cate urged him.

“When you’re a body slave you spend a lot of time alone in your head, you have to, even when your own head’s not a good place to be. Having someone around who understands… It helps I guess.” He shrugged.

“Not just Brian?” she guessed.

“No, not just Brian.” Jensen smiled shyly. “Do you want me to come back in an hour or so, give him a shave.”

Cate nodded. “That would be good, thank you.”

Their room was perfectly tidy when she walked in, everything had been unpacked and neatly put away, everything exactly where it should be, right down to her cosmetics and toiletries; the cosmetic bag to hand on the dressing table along with her perfumes and creams. Even the unpacked bags had been put away, out of sight.

Brian was laid out on top of the bed asleep, just as Jensen had said. He was barefoot, body curled a little onto his side. His t-shirt had ridden up above his belly, revealing a long patch of smooth skin, stretching up above the waistband of the jeans he was wearing. His skin was flawless now the bruising had disappeared. He was a little pale still but he was filling out a little bit, several pounds heavier than when she’d bought him. Daniel wanted him to gain at least another ten pounds but it wasn’t easy with Brian.

He didn’t have much of an appetite, another side effect of his medication. His diet at Roche had been quite restricted; an experimental diet that consisted of mostly soups and some kind of porridge from what he’d told her. Nutritionally it had contained everything his body required to keep him relatively healthy, but nothing more. He was still struggling to eat fresh food and to tolerate anything rich. 

It didn’t help that withdrawal from his medication gave him bouts of nausea and sometimes painful stomach cramps, none of which was going to get better soon. Weaning him off the drugs he was taking was an ongoing thing, a gradual reduction in all his medications that had long, and undoubtedly distressing, weeks to go.

The thought of Brian’s medication had her checking her watch and searching the room for the zip-lock bag of meds. She found it on the bathroom counter, retrieved what she needed before getting a glass of water and returning to the bedroom.

It seemed a shame to wake Brian when he was sleeping peacefully, but it had to be done. She put the water on the night stand before taking a seat on the edge of the bed and stroking her fingers lightly and repeatedly over Brian’s cheek until he started to stir.

“Brian?”

He blinked a couple of times before fully opening his eyes and gazing at her, his expression confused.

“Hey,” She smiled at him. “I’m sorry to wake you but I need you to sit up a little, take your pills, okay?”

He nodded, moistening his lips and pushing himself into a sitting position.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Ssh,” she told him, handing over the meds. “It’s okay. Just take these and then you can go back to sleep for a while.” He swallowed them down and she passed him the water, his hand surprisingly steady holding the glass in this half awake state.

She urged him to lay back down again afterwards, unsurprised when he slipped back into sleep almost immediately. Cate sat there for a while studying the smooth planes of his face, the fan of his thick, dark, curling lashes as they lay against the paleness of his face.

It was surprisingly easy sometimes to focus entirely on Brian’s problems and forget the man but it was impossible to forget how beautiful he was. She’d come to hate Lord Malkovich with an intensity she hadn’t realized she was capable of, and that was just from the rare glimpses Brian had given her of his life with the man. But, there was one thing she thought she understood and that was why he’d kept Brian as long as he did.

~0~

Brian stepped out of the shower, taking a soft looking white towel from the rack to dry his hair. He liked this en-suite; it was unusually large and modern with lots of steel and glass. There was dark grey slate on the floor and a lighter dove grey on the walls. Sunlight streamed in through a series of large sky-lights making the room bright and airy.

This was such a different house to Lady Blanchett’s, so much more modern and uncluttered, masculine he supposed. He’d never thought to ask if there was a Mrs. Morgan, he’d just presumed not and the design of the house made him even more certain.

There was a light tap on the bathroom door before it opened and Jensen poked his head around before stepping inside.

“I brought the shaving kit,” he told Brian with a smile. “A couple of other things I thought you might need too. I came up earlier to say hi, but you were sleeping.”

Brian nodded. He hadn’t expected that unpacking their things would make him as tired as it had. Lady Blanchett had told him that she woke him up to take his medication but he couldn’t remember that at all.

“You okay?” Jensen asked as he laid out the kit and the other things he’d brought with him on the bathroom counter.

He nodded again, finishing with his hair before picking up a larger towel and drying himself off quickly, wrapping it around his waist. He’d wanted to speak to Jensen since he’d first arrived but now the man was here he wasn’t really sure what to say to him.

“Jensen,” he began, frowning as he searched for the right words. “Can I ask you about something?”

“Anything,” he invited.” Just ask.”

“It’s just…” He sighed. “At L-Lady Blanchett’s house I have a room where I sleep, alone, and I don’t… Th-there’s one room here, one b-bed,” he stammered. He stared at Jensen, feeling his face flush hotly. “I’ve never been with a woman,” he admitted.

“Never?” Jensen’s eyebrow raised in surprise.

“No, I... Not,” he struggled to get the explanation out. “One of the Preceptors at Roche, she had this-this thing she would put on once the guards secured me and left. S-she wore it and...”

“A strap on? Did she fuck you with it? Is that all you’ve ever done?”

Brian nodded. “I was only ever with L-Lord M-Malkovich before I was taken to Roche.”

“But there was a Lady Malkovich, wasn’t there? Didn’t they ever share you?”

“Share? N-no, he…” Brian frowned as a shiver went down his spine, the ghost of a memory rising up inside his head.

“He what, Brian?”

“Only ever h-him, I was his property, I… There was no one else, not even to speak to, unless my Lord permitted it,” Brian told him.

The memory solidified, forcing its way to the front of his mind, suddenly all too vivid.. He remembered being in the wine cellar with its cold, unforgiving stone that bounced back every sound.

 _The cellar was large. Dusty bottles of his Lord’s wine filled row upon row of floor to ceiling racks, except for here, right at the back of the huge room. It isn’t a large area but just the thought of what happens back here make even the most innocuous visit a slave makes to the wine cellar an unpleasant experience. All of his master’s household slaves are brought here when their work or behavior is… disappointing._   
  
__

_It’s usually his Lord’s Head of Household who administers punishment, under the master’s strict instruction of course, and sometimes Lord Malkovich watches. Brian has witnessed others being punished more times than he can count while kneeling at his Lord’s feet. When he was younger he’d cried, even been sick on occasion, when a punishment had been severe. As a consequence he’s now forbidden to look away, no matter how much he may want to._   
  
__

_His own punishment is never administered by anyone other than his Lord, though Brian wishes that were not the case. The current Head of Household, he knows, takes no pleasure in this particular duty. The same can’t be said for Lord Malkovich._

 _His punishment isn’t always a private affair; the other slaves have been summoned to watch on more than one occasion. They only ever witness the punishments for bad behavior. When his lord teaches him about pain it’s always in private. The cellar never echoes those screams and sobs, they’re saved for rooms with feather beds, where the restraints are padded, the words are deceptively soft and the sunlight can stream in through the window making what happens there all the more real._   
  
__

_Brian is naked, arms stretched out above him in the shackles that hang from the vaulted ceiling just for this purpose. His master laid into him with the heavy flogger and his flesh, which had earlier been shivering in cold and fear, now burned with pain beneath a film of sweat._

 _All he wanted was for this to be over._

 _Lady Malkovich had come down to the wine cellar. He didn’t think she had ever been down here before, not from the way she’d gasped when she saw him or the way she was talking. She was standing somewhere behind him, her Portuguese accent more pronounced than usual as she pleaded with her husband._

 _“You must not do this, John. The slave is not at fault.”_

 _The bruising blows stopped but the agony remained, pain throbbing through his body. He could feel himself shaking as he fought to pull air into his heaving lungs._

 _He knew his punishment wasn’t over, knew that his Lord would resent this interruption. Lord Malkovich had told him many times, over the years, how much he savored these moments between them. Just as much as his master enjoyed blurring the lines between pain and pleasure for him he also enjoyed punishing him. He often spoke at length about the science and delicacy of inflicting pain and doing it well. As bad as a flogging or beating could be, Brian would probably choose it over some of his Lord’s more intimate and imaginative methods of inflicting pain._

 _Lord Malkovich liked to fuck him after he’d been punished. Usually while he was still chained up or bound, shaking, sweaty and occasionally bleeding. When he was younger the fuck would be quick and violent but these days his master took his time, hands lingering on the welts and bruises, tongue lapping at the blood and the sweat as though it was as precious as any of the fine wine stored in this huge room._

 _When his Lord spoke Brian didn’t have to be able to see his face to know that he was angry, he could hear it in the too sharp tone of his voice._

 _“You presume to tell me what I must and must not do to_   
  
**  
_my_   
**   
  
_slave, in_   
  
**  
_my_   
**   
  
_house?”_

 _“This is… This is barbarous, John, all of it; the chains, these whips and canes. Why are you doing this? This slave did nothing wrong. I was the one to engage him in conversation. I just wanted to get to know him, he…”_

 _“Get to_   
  
**  
_know_   
**   
  
_him.”His master’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “He is a slave. I realize you were born and raised a heathen, Nicoletta, but surely we’ve been married long enough for you to have grasped the basic concepts of slavery. He is my property. His function is to serve and obey me, nothing more, nothing less. He does nothing without my express permission and that includes speaking with_   
  
**  
_you_   
**   
_!”_

 _“But you spend so much time in the company of this one slave. I just thought that if we spoke then he…”_

 _Lord Malkovich’s laughter wasn’t a pleasant sound. Brian heard something hit the floor and skitter across the stone. It was the flogger, he realized, as it slid into his line of sight, coming to rest against his foot. He wasn’t fooled into thinking his punishment was over, he knew that was far from the case. He could only worry about just how bad it was going to get. He could hear the barely restrained fury in his Lord’s voice and wished that her Ladyship would leave before things could get any worse._

 _“Then he’d what? What do you assume he’s capable of sharing with you? What information do you imagine you could glean from him; whether I prefer my scotch on the rocks or at room temperature? How to tie the perfect Windsor knot in my tie perhaps, or are you looking for something more… personal?”_

 _Brian heard his Lord’s footsteps on the echoing stone as he moved closer to him. He couldn’t hold back the flinch as a familiar hand slowly caressed the raised welts the flogger had left on his buttocks before coming to rest lightly on the globe of his ass._

 _“Brian’s oral skills are particularly gifted. I’ve been fucking his mouth since he was twelve and I will confess that it has always been a pleasure. I’ve taught him to know precisely how and when to suck, to know just the right amount of tongue to use. He’ll deep throat to the point of passing out, he has passed out more than once over the years, and unlike you, my dear Nicoletta, he_   
  
**  
_never_   
**   
  
_says no._

 _“Perhaps you could ask him what it feels like when I fuck him.” The hand moved, finger pressing slowly down the crack of his ass to rest over his entrance. “When he was twenty one I paid a significant sum to ensure that fucking him would always feel as perfect as it did the very first time I took him. The surgery took a little over two hours, a fascinating procedure that the surgeon was kind enough to allow me to observe. It’s a delicate operation; a fine mesh is used, grafted into the rings of muscle. After the surgery the mesh is allowed to contract over a number of days as the patient heals. It was eight weeks before I was able to fuck him again, and even then I had to be careful for the first few times, but afterwards...” He could hear the smile in his lord’s words. “The mesh is guaranteed to retain its elasticity for the lifetime of the patient with no loss of sensation. A very pleasing coming of age gift, in my opinion.”_

 _The finger pressed down a little and Brian automatically opened his legs a little wider. He heard his master chuckle. “Do you like it when I fuck you, Brian?”_

 _“If it pleases you, my Lord,” he answered quickly._

 _“If it_   
  
**  
_pleases_   
**   
  
_me. You see, my love, even when I finish with him here; when I’ve inflicted as much pain upon him as I see fit, he will still do whatever I wish. He will fall to his knees without hesitation. He will hang in those chains with his legs spread wide…”_

 _“Stop it!”Lady Malkovich screamed at him. “For pities sake, John,_   
  
**  
_stop_   
**   
_.”_

 _“You have your own rooms, I suggest that you return to them and concentrate on the children; that is after all why I married you. If you feel you must talk to the slaves I’ve given you more than enough of your own. Talk to them, fuck them, do whatever you wish with them. Speak to this one again and you’ll take his place in the chains. Do I make myself clear?”_

 _“You wouldn’t dare!”_

 _“Do you really want to test me, Nicoletta? Now, get out!”_

 _He heard light footsteps retreating quickly, almost running, muffled sobs fading with them. The hand is still on his ass and he feels his Lord’s body move closer to his, the tip of a tongue flicking at his ear before kissing slowly down to his shoulder._

 _“Lady Malkovich makes me very angry, Brian.” His Lord’s voice was a gentle whisper, breath puffing onto his shoulder. The finger that had been resting heavily against his hole pushed slowly inside him. “I need to fuck you now, feel you around me.” The finger pushed deeper, finding and stroking that too sensitive spot inside of him, the sensation teasing his cock into life despite the pain and the fear. “When I’m finished I’m going to hurt you, punish your slip.”_

 _“I’m sorry, my Lord, I’m so…”_

 _“No, no, no, none of that, hush,” His Lord’s hand reached around to rub slow circles over his abs before moving further down and wrapping around his cock. His voice was so soft now, comforting, all trace of anger gone. “I know that this isn’t entirely your fault,_   
  
**  
_but_   
**   
  
_you need to learn that you are mine, that you do not speak to anyone without my express permission. You’ll learn from the pain and you’ll be the better for it, I promise you.”_   
  
__

_The finger withdrew and he felt and heard his Lord opening his fly, the familiar blunt pressure against his entrance followed._

 _“You’re going to learn a very important lesson today, one that I want you to remember…”_

“Brian?”

He was surprised to find Jensen right in front of him, one arm wrapped around him, the other hand brushing up and down Brian’s arm, his eyes filled with concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked, quickly. “You zoned out on me.”

Brian couldn’t suppress a shudder. “J-just a bad memory.”

“Do you want me to fetch Cate?”

“No, it’s… I’m okay.” He took in a deep, shuddering breath and Jensen released him, took a step back.

“You sure?” He didn’t sound too certain.

Brian leant his hip against the counter, grateful for the support at his back. Now Jensen had released him, he felt unsteady. “Things keep coming back, things from before,” he explained. “Th-things I’d forgotten.”

“Things you want to remember?” Jensen asked him, but the expression on his face told Brian that the other man already knew the answer to that.

“No,” he shook his head.

“You should talk to Cate about them.”

Brian frowned. “I don’t… Can’t…” He ran a trembling hand over his hair. “What if she d-doesn’t like what I tell her? What if she sends me away?”

“She won’t do that, Brian, she…”

“I know what will happen to me if she s-sends me away, know where they’ll take me. I-I’ve been there…”

“She won’t let you go back to being a horse, she wouldn’t do…”

“There are worse things than being a horse, m-much worse. D-don’t tell her about this, please, don’t?” He was begging, hating himself for doing it, for asking it of Jensen.

“ _Brian_.” Jensen sighed. 

“Please, Jensen.”

Jensen stared at him, green eyes intense. He chewed at his bottom lip and then nodded. “I won’t say anything to Cate, not this time, but if it happens again I have to,  _you_  have to,” he insisted. “Come on, hop up on the counter, and let’s get you shaved, okay?”

~0~

Brian didn’t like sitting at the dining table. It felt wrong to him when he did it at Lady Blanchett’s house, even worse here, amongst strangers. It was wrong, he should be on his knees beside her, but she wouldn't allow it, there weren’t even kneeling pads put out on the floor. Instead he sat next to her on a chair, his eyes on the table in front of him with its starched, white cloth and gleaming silverware. His hands were clasping and unclasping in his lap as he fought to keep the shake in them under control. 

Apart from Lady Blanchett...  _Cate_ , he had to remember to call her Cate, he didn't know any of the people sat around the table except for Jeff Morgan and Jensen. It’s the first time he’s seen Morgan in smart clothes. His suit is dark grey, almost black and very well tailored. He’s not wearing a tie but his black shirt is silk and looks good. Jensen always dresses well, his black suit and white shirt look perfect on him, but then Jensen would look good in just about anything.

There’s a part of Brian that really likes Jensen and wants to call him friend, he has only vague recollections of friends but he knows what they are, knows he’d like friendship again. At the same time there’s a small part of him, a darker, ugly part that he doesn’t particularly like, that could hate the other body slave. He recognizes the feeling as envy. He watches Jensen and sees perfection. He’s beautiful; everything he does is studied, fluid and graceful. He must have pleased his masters. Brian can see how hard he works at pleasing Jeff Morgan, how focused he is on the man, even when he’s not with him. 

He wants to be able to please Lady Blanchett, be a good body slave to her. He’s been over and over in his mind everything Jensen had explained to him about being with a woman while he shaved him. He knows he has to speak to her, ask her what her wishes are, explain that he’s never been with a woman before so that she’ll understand, give him instruction. He’s been trained before, was pleasing once, he just wants to be able to do that again. 

He likes her, likes the way she looks, finds her beautiful, especially tonight in the strapless dress he’d helped her into, her skin warm and silky beneath his trembling fingers as he fastened the endless little buttons. Helping her to get ready had been enjoyable, he’d brushed out her hair, enjoying the feel of the large, wavy, blonde curls in his hands before she fastened it up with jeweled combs and clips. She’d helped him too, fixing his tie when he’d struggled with the knot and leaning in close, hand on his cheek, to appreciate the cologne that Jensen had given him: Some fragrance that was made here on the estate by Jeff Morgan’s company.

She smiled at him curiously, squeezing his hand beneath the table and Brian realized he’d been staring at her. 

He cut his eyes away to study the room. It’s a large dining room, much larger than the one at Lady Blanchett’s house. There’s a hum of conversation, people talking to Lady Blanchett, jokes and laughter. He doesn’t follow what they’re talking about, he doesn’t really understand very much of it, but he listens to Lady Blanchett as she tells him the names of the people joining them to sit at the table. 

He studied some of the other people sitting around the table from beneath lowered lashes, trying to memorize the faces and fit them to the names. He’s certain that there are more slaves here than just himself and Jensen, but he couldn’t pick out who was slave and who was master. 

The Christmas tree in the corner of the room is huge, the baubles predominantly gold with others that look like painted wooden toys. Most of the decorations are gold, even down to the runner on the table and the mass of candles. The candles are scented, their perfume a mix of sandalwood and cinnamon, not overpowering but pleasant and vaguely familiar. The coasters are all gold too and the candlelight reflects in them, giving everything a warm glow. His eyes are drawn to his silverware laid out on the table in front of him. There's a knife, long and elegant, it's bright, sharp blade winking at him in the candlelight. He ran his finger tip down it slowly, the metal cool against his skin. He picked it up without thinking, eyes drawn to the shape of the blade and the way the candlelight reflects across the surface. 

 _He had filled the bathroom with candles that night, so many of them that it had taken him much longer than he’d anticipated. He still had time though, Lord Malkovich wouldn’t wake up for hours and her ladyship wasn’t due back until the morning. No one else would dare to venture in here without good reason. The task of lighting them all had calmed him and by the time he had finished his breathing was deep and even, all trace of the panic, and fear he’d been feeling earlier had left him._   
  
__

_He’d carefully removed his clothes in the outer room as the claw foot tub filled, the steam taking on the heavy scent of the candles. He tested the temperature carefully before he slipped into the water. He’d made sure it was as hot as he could comfortably bear, knowing that the cold would come soon enough._   
  
__

_The candlelight flickered on the polished surface of the expensive Italian tiles, and on the gold of the bath fittings. He studied the gleaming blade of the cut throat as he picked it up from the side of the bathtub, the ornately carved ivory handle that fit so precisely in the palm of his hand as he closed his grip around it. There was a moment of perfect calm, of relief in knowing that it would finally be over. After this there would be no more hurt, no more pain, just oblivion. He gasped a little as his flesh parted, but barely felt the kiss of the finely honed blade. He watched as the bright sticky blood began to run from the long cuts..._  

So much... 

 _So much..._

“Brian,  _Brian_...” The urgency in Cate's voice startled him, drew him back to the present. The knife he was holding too tightly in both hands dropped with a harsh clatter to the table. His heart was beating wildly and he'd broken out in a sweat. He stared at her, desperately trying to work out what he should do, what she would want. He couldn't think, didn't know...

“It's alright Brian.” Lady Blanchett was smiling a little but it wasn't reaching her eyes, there was worry in her eyes.

He'd embarrassed her in front of her friends. It was unforgivable, he knew. His instinct was to drop to his knees but she didn't like that. 

He didn’t know what to do! 

He heard her saying his name over and over but he couldn't think. He couldn't... He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he struggled to pull in any air, couldn't breathe.

“ _Easy_ , Brian, every thing's okay,” Jeff' Morgan's deep voice came from beside him and Brian was surprised to find the man knelt on the floor next to his chair, his large hand coming up to rest at the back of Brian's neck, kneading the tightening muscle there. “Can you hear me?”

He managed to nod. He felt the man’s other hand take a hold of his, gently opening his fist and running his thumb across the palm, he did the same with the other hand.

“No cuts, that’s good.” He sighed, relief in his voice. “You’re doin’ good there, Brian. Can you look at me? I want you to listen and do as I say, okay? I want you to breathe in, through your nose. Come on, you can do it.”

He tried to do as he was told.

“Good, that's good,” Morgan told him encouragingly. “Now out through your nose, slow and easy, slow and easy. You're doing fine, Brian, just stay with me. Another breath in now, do it with me, come on.”

He didn't look away from Master Morgan, just copied him, listening to that deep reassuring voice until the tightness eased a little in his chest and he could breathe.

“There we go,” Morgan smiled, his hand continuing its soothing massage of Brian's neck. “Feel better?”

“Yes sir,” came automatically, but it was true.

“Brian?” Lady Blanchett came to sit back down at the other side of him, he couldn't remember her moving away. “I need you to take this,” she told him, holding out a pale yellow pill. “It will help,” she smiled gently at him and this time it reached her eyes. “I promise.”

Master Morgan moved away as Brian took the pill from her carefully, suddenly and uncomfortably aware of the silent attention of the other people sat around the table and the increased shake in his hands. He felt the color rush into his cheeks.

“It’s okay, Brian, don’t worry.”

He swallowed the pill and she passed him a glass of water, holding it with him to keep it steady as he drank, washing it down. When he'd finished she returned it to the table.

“Okay?”

Brian nodded quickly, trying to gage her mood without too much eye contact. “Yes, L... C-Cate,” he offered, nervously. “I... I'm sorry, I...” he began, uncertainly.

“You've nothing to be sorry for, Brian. You haven't done anything wrong.” Her hand came up to rub his upper arm. It was something she did often and he found it comforting. “Just try and relax for me, breathe slowly, that’s it.” She sat close and he turned into her a little, not wanting to look anywhere else. He felt a hand move to stroke his hair, the other left his arm, fingers coming to rest over his pulse.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there like that, but he found himself slowly start to relax.

Lady Blanchett’s fingers moved to stroke his face and he met her eyes. “Better?” She asked him, her smile still there.

“Yes, my lady,” he nodded.

“Will Brian be okay to go ahead with dinner?” Jeff Morgan asked her.

Cate gave him that soft quizzical look of hers, head tilted, eyes assessing. “Would you like to go and lay down for a while, Brian, or do you want to stay here?”

What he wanted didn't matter; he knew that, body slave or horse, that was the truth. He remembered the relieved smile in Lady Blanchett's eyes when Jeff Morgan had invited her to spend the holiday. He knew she wanted to be here, wanted to be with these people. 

“I’d like to stay, please, my lady.” He asked her, his voice quiet but as confidant as he could manage. 

She beamed and he knew he'd given her the right answer. 

“I'll go let Sam know we're ready,” Morgan said quietly.

~0~

Cate wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing, letting Brian stay at dinner. She was fairly certain that another flashback had triggered his anxiety attack, though being here among so many people, strangers, couldn’t be helping. Daniel had warned her that coming off such strong medication could precipitate this kind of reaction, and she’d already seen it for herself. The medication he’d prescribed seemed to be kicking in fairly quickly. Brian seemed visibly calmer already, the shake in his hands reduced to a tremor. 

The soft murmur of conversation had resumed around the table as everyone waited for the food to be brought out. Cate noticed that Jared hadn’t joined them yet; his seat opposite Brian was still empty. She looked around to ask Jensen where he was, surprised when she noticed that Jensen had moved from his original seat to sit at the other side of Brian.

“Jensen, do we know where Jared is?” she asked him.

“I’m not sure. He shouldn’t be long. He doesn’t like missing out on food.” He smiled. “The food’s really good here,” he confided to Brian. “Sam’s a good cook.”

Brian looked up at Jensen, his expression confused. “You… You don’t kneel when there are guests?” He asked.

Jensen shook his head. “Not often. Jeff, he… It’s different here than the other households I’ve served. Less formal but…complicated.”

Brian gave him a nod that looked like agreement.

“But here,” Jensen continued, “They don’t mind if you make mistakes.”

“Do  _you_  make them?” Brian asked him. It was as much conversation as Cate had ever seen him make. She was pleased that he was talking to someone but selfishly disappointed that he’d chosen Jensen and not her. He’d answer her questions, of course, but he didn’t instigate conversation.

“There are days when it feels like that’s  _all_  I do,” Jensen reflected, his voice more than a little sad.

Brian didn’t reply. His concentrated gaze was focused back on the table in front of him and he frowned. He slowly reached out a trembling hand and carefully picked up the knife he had dropped earlier, which was now glaringly out of place, and returned it to its correct position in the setting.

Cate found the whole thing oddly difficult to watch and had to look away before the prickle of emotion behind her eyes turned into more tears. As she did she noticed Kane’s bright eyes fixed on Brian, saw him scowl as Brian glanced up, meeting his eyes.

Kane looked away quickly, picking up one of the open but untouched bottles of red wine from the table. He filled his glass and then drank off a good half of it.

“I thought you were more of a beer man,” Cate snapped, not appreciating the look he’d given Brian.

Kane glanced across at her and shrugged.

“Is something wrong, Kane?”

The smile he gave her was forced. “I’m just fine,” he drawled, draining his glass and filling it again.

“Have you met Brian?” she asked him. “He’s my…”

“I  _know_  what he is.” Kane cut her off.

She frowned. “Do you have some kind of problem with that?”

His intense blue eyes met hers. “No,” he told her. “I don’t have a problem.”

“We all have problems, Kane my friend,” Jeremy piped up. “Don’t think for a minute that you’re immune from them, that’s just lying to yourself, man.” 

“Kane’s problem is that he’s a miserable bastard, ain’t that right, Kane?” Chad chimed in, laughing.

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Murray!” Kane snapped, a hint of real anger in his voice. 

Cate saw Brian watching the exchange, frowning deeply and dropping his eyes.

Jensen must have seen it too because he spoke up before Cate had the chance. “Brian?” His voice was quiet and calm. “It’s okay.”

“I…” She saw his eyes cut over to Kane before their focus settled on the hands that he’d clenched in his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“ _You’ve_  nothing to be sorry for,” Jensen assured him, leveling an accusing glare at Kane. “It’s just…” Cate saw him reach over and settle his hand over Brian’s, stilling the shake in them. “It’s just talk. No one’s angry,” he explained, “Not with you.”

Cate knew she’d been partly responsible for this, she should have spoken to Kane quietly instead of challenging him in front of Brian.

“If this is too hard, Brian..?” She offered.

“N-no.” he shook his head, barely hesitating before meeting her eyes. “It’s not too hard.”

“Shit.” Kane lurched awkwardly to his feet, shaking his head. “I can’t fucking do this.” He picked up his glass and another bottle of wine before walking away from the table, almost bumping into Jared as he left the room.

Confusion written all over his face, Jared took his place at the table. It looked like he’d gotten ready in a rush; his hair was still damp at the ends from the shower, and the tie he was wearing slightly askew over a rumpled shirt. “Is Kane drunk already?” he asked with a puzzled smile. 

“You know, I think he might be,” Jeremy decided.

“He’s just being a dick,” Chad told them. “Nothing new there, huh?”

“Guess not.” Jared shrugged and Cate saw him notice Brian, hesitate for just a moment before he favored him with one of those heart stopping smiles of his. “Hey, you must be Brian. I’m Jared, it’s good to meet you, man.” He stood slightly to reach one of those giant paws of his over the table for him to shake.

Brian’s eyes flicked nervously to Cate and she gave him an encouraging nod and smile. He extended his hand, uncertain eyes on Jared as the younger man pumped it with enthusiasm.

“Thought I was gonna be late,” Jared told them, sitting back down. “Sadie got into something; don’t know what, but the stink…” He pulled a face, “Got it all over my good shirt. I was going to iron another but, by the time I’d dumped her in the bath…” he shrugged and grinned guiltily. “I didn’t wanna miss the food so I grabbed the first one on the pile. Sam’s a great cook,” he added, eyes on Brian once more.

Brian frowned, clearly confused.

“Sadie’s a dog,” Jensen explained to him, aiming a tolerant smile at Jared.

“Oh, yeah,” Jared grinned. “I maybe should have said that, huh?” He laughed. “We have lots of dogs, do you like them, Brian?”

Cate was surprised when he nodded.

“Did Lord Malkovich keep dogs?” she asked him.

“He bred D-Dobermans.”

Jared beamed. “They’re real smart dogs. Jensen hates dogs.”

“I don’t  _hate_  them,” Jensen edged, protesting slightly. “I’m just… I never know what they’ll  _do_.”

“Never know what who’ll do?” Jeff asked, coming to lean on the back of Jensen’s chair, the fingers of one hand caressing his nape.

“Dogs,” Jensen told him, looking up at him and smiling. “Why aren’t you sitting down?”

“I’m going to see if Sam could use any help, there’s just her and Joe...” He frowned when he noticed the empty place at the other side of the table. “Where’s Kane?”

“He upset Brian,” Jeremy announced. “Then he grabbed the Tempranillo and fucked off.”

“He upset  _Brian_?” Jeff looked at Cate for confirmation.

“I just said that.”

“Why the hell would he do that?” Jeff frowned. “Is he stoned, drunk?”

  
“I think he could be well on his way to being drunk, he didn’t look too steady when he walked out,” Cate told him.

“ Jesus!” Jeff gave a put upon sigh. “Cate, I’m sorry, I’ll talk to him.”

“In all honesty it seemed a little out of character for him,” She conceded. It didn’t seem like Kane at all, she knew he could be belligerent when he wanted to, downright awkward, but Christian was a good man for all his faults.

“He has his asshole moments.” Jeff sighed.

“Kane, really? And I always thought he was Mr Sunshine,” Jeremy deadpanned, provoking laughter from everyone else.

“Just leave it for now, Jeff,” Cate urged him, knowing that the conversation could easily get out of hand and it wouldn’t be helping Brian. “Don’t let this spoil tonight.”

“Not gonna happen,” he assured her, leaving Jensen to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. He gently squeezed Brian’s shoulder. “You okay, Brian?”

He nodded, half looking up but never getting close enough to make any sort of eye contact. “Yes, sir.”

Jeff raised a skeptical brow at Cate but didn’t say anything.

“I should go and help Sam,” Jensen told him.

“Nope, I got it,” Jeff told him. “You’re doing good right where you are.”

~0~

Brian could feel the effects of the pill that Lady Blanchett gave him. Things seemed a little distant and it was harder to concentrate in a way it hadn’t been for days. The conversations at the table continue all around him but they seem muted, less disturbing than he’d found them when they first sat down, easier to cope with. It’s not the same numbness as he felt at Roche though; it’s not a struggle to think for himself. His body feels different too, as though it’s loosening up, the knots of tension slowly melting away.

It was helping, he knew it was. It was making it easier to sit at the table with these people. He still wanted to kneel though, to be in his rightful place, but that wasn’t what Lady Blanchett wanted and he belonged to her now, no one else. He wasn’t the only slave sitting at the table, there was Jensen and maybe Jared, but he wasn’t sure. Jared looked like he should be a body slave but the clothes were wrong and the way he sprawled in his chair, the way he moved, there’s no training there, no discipline. 

The one named Chad might be a slave and yet he seemed, so sure of himself, confident and loud. He was good looking, certainly attractive enough to be a body slave, though not if you compared him to Jared or Jensen. The man fidgeted continually, almost as much as he talked, and that’s not something a master would appreciate, apart from in a field hand. 

There was a woman at the other side of the table who, at first glance, might have been Lady Blanchett’s sister but on closer scrutiny he’s sure she’s no relation. She had the same body type, same coltish masculinity, but her looks were less delicate, not as beautiful. He recognized the dress she was wearing as silk, fitting so perfectly it had to be made for her and jewelry that was subtle and expensive. He remembered her name was Ever. On closer inspection, he was certain she wasn’t a slave. Haute couture might not be unusual for a body slave but he was fairly certain the gems she was wearing were large carat diamonds. Since the crash of the US diamond market not even the most beloved slave wore diamonds. 

The woman who sat beside her, dark haired and beautiful, constantly vying for her attention, seemed too eager to be a lover, too forward to be a body slave. Lady Blanchett had said her name too, but Brian couldn’t remember it.

There were others, a married couple who seemed friendly and had their young son here with them, the baby monitor sat between them on the table so they could watch and hear their child in the room he shared with Master Morgan’s little boy. Two other men sat near them, one who Master Morgan had called Jeremy. The other man looked back at him through startling, friendly blue eyes, a gentle smile on his face. Brian notices his hands flicker and the man cocks his head, expression curious, bird-like. Brian looked up a little and the man who he remembered had an odd name smiled once more, his hands moving again.

 _Hello_

Sign -- he’d learned it in Commerce School, though it was never part of the curriculum. They had passed it between them, the older kids teaching the younger ones. It had felt like something of their own. The man was a slave then, a body slave, for he was too beautiful to be anything else.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready to betray that he knew sign, not with Lady Blanchett sitting beside him and after a while the blue eyed man’s smile dimmed a little.

~0~

The dinner had been hard on Brian, so many people to deal with, so many different things to cope with. Cate wasn’t sure now if spending Christmas with Jeff had been the right decision; she knew it had been a selfish one. It was even more selfish of her to make the decision to leave or stay at the dinner Brian’s. He was desperate to please her and he wasn’t a fool, he knew she wanted to be there.

To his credit, he’d coped surprisingly well. The sedative had helped him and so had Jensen’s calm, quiet presence. Jared had been a godsend as well, keeping the conversation going and including Brian with an open, easy manner, while never pressuring him to take part. It was hard to believe just how much he’d matured over the last year or so. Cate wondered if perhaps being around Jensen hadn’t changed all of them to some degree.

Dinner wasn’t rushed, it never was at Jeff’s, and by the time the decision was finally made to move away from the dining table in favor of somewhere more comfortable, Cate knew Brian had had enough. They said their goodnights before making their way to bed.

Since bringing him home from Roche, Cate has seen Brian naked numerous times. He had no sense of modesty when it came to being undressed and Cate was beginning to wonder what had happened to her own. She’s massaged creams into his body, inside as well as out, and until just a couple of days ago, she was stroking him to completion every night. Sharing a bed with him after all that should be a simple thing, but it feels awkward and she knows it’s not just her who was feeling that way. She can see it in Brian in the uncertain glances and the visible tension in his posture as he hangs up his jacket and starts to take off his shirt.

The trick to soothing her own nerves, she has discovered, was concentrating on calming Brian’s.

“Brian,” she took a seat at the dressing table. “Could you help me unpin my hair?”

“Yes, my lady.”

His feet were bare already, the first things he took off were his shoes and socks. Cate knew how uncomfortable he found them. Part of it had to do with him not being able to try on any of the shoes Jensen bought for him and part of it was probably due to the fact he was never allowed to wear any footwear during the time he spent at Roche.

She studied his reflection in the mirror as he removed the jeweled clips from her hair, his white silk shirt hanging loose and unbuttoned. He looked so much better now since he left Roche. It was good to see all trace of heavy bruising had finally disappeared and to watch him slowly fill out now that he was coping a little better with his food. He’d done quite well with the dinner Sam had made for him tonight, free of anything too rich that would unsettle his stomach. It hadn’t been a huge amount of food but Brian had eaten more than he usually did, slowly trying a little of everything Sam had made for him. Considering the nausea that his gradual drug withdrawal caused him, Cate thought he did pretty well.

She could feel the heat from his body as he stood behind her, carefully removing the clips and pins, totally absorbed in what he was doing. His fingers felt warm when they touched her, the tremble in his hands barely there. There was an intensity to his gaze whenever he was doing something that made Cate want to sit and stare, to drink in just how beautiful he was.

“Would you like me to brush it out, my lady?” he asked her once the clips were out, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“No, that’s fine, Brian, thank you. Why don’t you go and clean your teeth, finish getting ready for bed.”

By the time Cate had brushed her hair, cleaned off her make-up and brushed her own teeth Brian was waiting for her, naked and kneeling beside the bed. It wasn’t a huge surprise to find him there, and to be honest she’d been expecting it.

She squeezed his shoulder gently. “You don’t have to kneel.” She told him. “Into bed, it’s okay.”

His head came up and he met her eyes, but surprisingly he didn’t get to his feet. It was a huge thing for him, this small act of disobedience and she could see how fearful he was, but she could see his determination too.

“What is it, Brian?”

“Please, my lady, m-may I s-serve you?”

She gave him a smile and then placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. “Come to bed and then we’ll talk about it.”

He swallowed, nodded. “Y-yes, my lady, I-I’m sorry.”

“I’m not angry with you,” she reassured him. “Don’t worry.”

Getting into bed felt more than a little awkward for her and it had to feel even worse for Brian. Cate knew she was handling this badly -- it was difficult straddling the line between the type of owner that Brian expected and the owner that Cate wanted to be. She knew she was sending him mixed signals, his body language made that clear; he was wary, defeated and much too tense. She seemed to have a talent for making things difficult for him. Brian had been trained to serve and to please, anything that he saw as a rejection only shattered what little self-esteem he had left.

She rolled over to face him, putting her smile in place, stroking her fingers over his cheek, desperate to make things better, easier.

“You did amazingly well tonight, Brian. I know how difficult all this must be. We’re going to be here for over a week so I need you to understand a couple of things, okay?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Cate,” she reminded him. “In bed, more than anywhere else,  _please_  try and remember to call me Cate.”

“Y-yes, Cate.”

“Much better,” she told him, letting her smile broaden. “I know that you want to please me and that you’re trying very hard to do that. I bought you from Roche to be my body slave. I don’t ever plan on selling you or to sending you back to them to be a horse or to the labs. I know you probably don’t believe that, but it’s true. I want you with me. I know you don’t think you’re doing very well but I think you are.

“Coming here for Christmas and New Year, spending time with my friends, all of that, it’s good and I enjoy it, but the most important thing for me right now is getting you better. The drugs they gave you at Roche are making things difficult for you, and getting them out of your system is slow work and its hard on you, especially here around so many strangers. I need you to promise me that if things get really difficult for you, if you feel you can’t cope, if you get tired or worried, or you just don’t feel well, that you’ll tell me. Can you do that?” she asked him.

“Yes, C-Cate.”

“That’s good,” she assured him. “That’s all part of pleasing me and it’s just as important as the physical part of our relationship.” Cate bit down on her bottom lip, uncertain of what she was about to tell him but wanting to be as honest with him as she could.

“I haven’t been anyone’s mistress for a long time, Brian. I didn’t feel that I wanted a body slave or that owning one would fit into my life, at least I didn’t until I saw you. I have to relearn how to be a good mistress and I’ll probably make some mistakes. I am making mistakes, but you have to be patient and honest with me, okay?”

Brian frowned. “I-I spoke to Jensen, h-he said I had to talk to you, t-tell you…” he stammered, clearly nervous.

“Tell me what?” she asked, stroking his hair.

“I w-want to serve you but… I-I’ve never been with a w-woman, except…” He broke eye contact with her, staring down at the comforter. “Preceptor B-Benz, she…”

“Did you have some kind of relationship with her?” She’d hated that woman, didn’t imagine that any kind of intimacy Brian had with her could have been very pleasant for him.

“S-She fucked me l-like the guards, but she, she w-wore this thing…” Brian looked as uncomfortable telling her this as Cate felt hearing it “That’s all I’ve ever done and J-Jensen said I sh-should tell you.”

The stammer was getting so much worse. “It’s okay, Brian. I’m pleased that you told me.” She let her fingers rub over his shoulder tracing invisible patterns, calming her own nerves as much as his. The thought of the Benz woman using what had to be some kind of strap-on on him mad her feel more than a little sick but that didn’t necessarily mean that Brian would feel the same way.

“Did you like her doing that to you?” Cate asked him.

“N-No, it hurt and I couldn’t move, she made the restraints so tight. Maybe if you… When…” He frowned, clearly searching for the right words “If I could m-move it wouldn’t hurt so much. Unless, if you wanted it to…”

“Ssh, no,” she placed a finger over his lips, quieting him. “I’m not going to do  _anything_  to you that you don’t like or you’re not sure about, and you always have to tell me if you’re uncertain about something, anything at all, or if I hurt you in some way. That’s a rule between us, okay?”

He nodded.

“When you were a horse, you weren’t allowed to have intercourse, were you?” she’d had Brian’s functions explained to her in some detail by Matthew Fox at Roche. 

“No.” He shook his head. “Only if the guards wanted me.”

“Were you ever with anyone else during your time with Lord Malkovich?”

He shook his head. “No one.”

“Are you worried about being with a woman, is that why you asked Jensen?”

“I don’t know w-what to do,” he admitted, “How to please a w-woman.”

“Do you like women?”

“I like you. I-I don’t really know any other women.”

The answer made Cate laugh a little, breaking the tension. “I like you too,” she told him, “Very much.” She tilted his chin up with her fingers and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “What about kissing, do you like kissing?”

His eyelashes fluttered down over those intense slate-blue eyes and he nodded.

Cate kissed him again, leaning over him to lick at his lips, wanting to taste him. He opened up to her immediately, letting her in, mouth soft and pliant, his hands coming to rest over her ribcage, the touch barely there.

She broke the kiss. “It’s okay to touch me if you want to, Brian, to kiss me.”

He chewed at his bottom lip a little, letting his hands move and hold her around the waist and then slowly move up under her pajama top to firmly bracket her ribs.

“Tell me what you want,” she urged him.

“I…Can I see you?”

Cate nodded, moving over to straddle him on her knees before slowly unbuttoning her pajama top, hopefully looking more confident than she felt as she took it off. Brian’s large, moist eyes followed every movement, his hands back to resting at her waist.

Face flushed she sat across his thighs, inordinately pleased when she heard his soft groan.

“Tell me what you want to do next.”

He swallowed, his eyes feverishly bright. “I want to touch you, please?”

“I’d like that, show me.”

His hands were warm and dry, incredibly gentle as they traced lightly up her sides, making her squirm a little. He brought them up to rest on her shoulders, eyes intent on what he was doing as his fingers fanned out over her clavicle then slowly traced around her breasts and down to her stomach.

He startled her when he sat up quickly, one hand moving to rest across her shoulders, the other moving to the small of her back, keeping her steady, easing her closer so he could kiss her. He didn’t hesitate this time, the moment she returned the kiss his tongue found hers, straying into her mouth, licking and tasting. His erection was trapped between them as he held her close, her nipples tingling as they grazed his chest. It felt good to be with a man again, it had been a long time.

Cate broke the kiss to run her fingers through his short, thick hair, laying soft kisses over his brows and cheeks, licking at the shell of his ear and sucking on the lobe before taking it between her teeth and nipping at it lightly. She heard his breath catch a little at the gentle bite and his cock twitch between them.

He explored the length of her neck with his lips and tongue, his hands tracing teasing patterns over her skin before cupping her breasts. She stopped kissing him, leaning back a little to let him look and touch, encouraging him with her soft smile as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

His eyes flashed up to hers constantly as his fingers explored her breasts, lightly nipping and pulling at her nipples, the look in them a little uncertain. He must have found whatever approval he was looking for in her expression as he leant in, cupping her breast and rolling her nipple before kissing it lightly.

Cate gasped as he suckled at her nipple, tongue coming out to trace around the aureole before teasing the hard peak with his teeth. He released it and then turned that same reverent attention on the other breast, making her groan and clasp at his back and shoulders, scratching lightly.

She could feel his cock against her belly, the head damp with pre-come as she eased her hand between them to touch it, running her thumb over the underside, feeling him shiver and widen his mouth to take in more of her breast, tongue licking repeatedly over the nipple, his fingers exploring the other breast and rolling that nipple more firmly than he had before.

The silk of her pajama pants was wet with her own want and ache to have Brian inside her. This wasn’t the gentle kissing and touching that she’d planned.

“Brian,” she cradled his face in her hands, moved him away from her breast.

He stared up at her, eyes wide, pupils blown.

“This is going too fast, we need to…”

“Please, Cate,  _please_.”

She stared at him, uncertain. She had to be honest with herself, admit that she wanted this as much as Brian clearly did, but she still wasn’t sure that she should have let things go this far. If she stopped this now though she knew that Brian would blame himself, feel that he’d somehow failed her.

She kissed him, slowly, deeply. It had come too far to stop, and if she was honest that wasn’t what she wanted.

“Help me take these off,” she told him, as she broke the kiss.

They struggled with the pajama pants, their eagerness hampering more than helping their efforts, grateful as she finally wrestled them off and threw them on the floor.

She cupped his face, kissing him again, loving his growing confidence as he kissed back, the soft press of his fingers over her bottom ribs, the heat and the scent of him.

“Lay back, Brian.”

He didn’t hesitate, obeying her instantly, his arms at his sides, his focused gaze intent on her.

She wanted to explore him, make him feel good. She moved a little further down the bed, lifting off him and guiding his knees apart so that she could kneel between his legs.

“C-Cate?”

“Ssh, just lay back.” She laid a sloppy trail of kisses over the insides of his thighs, taking her time, blowing over the moist flesh and feeling him shiver, hands clenched against his sides.

“Tell me how it feels, Brian.”

“Good, it feels g-good.”

Cate smiled, kisses moving higher, letting the tip of her nose nudge at his sac before licking at the underside.

“My la…C-Cate, y-you shouldn’t… Oh,  _oh_  please.”

She continued to lick and kiss his sac, watching as he fought the urge to squirm, panting loudly. His erection was hard and glazing his belly with pre-come, cock twitching as she slowly traced languid lines across his abdomen with her tongue. She held herself over him on her hands and knees, watching his face as she kissed her way slowly up his cock before taking the tip in her mouth and tonguing the slit.

She knew that she could make him come undone like this, that he would enjoy it, but she wanted to give him more than that.

She released his cock and moved up to lick over his lips, kissing him softly before moving off him and lying beside him. She reached for his hand, tugging a little to encourage him to move over her.

He swallowed, clearly uncertain what she wanted him to do, his thick lashes fluttering as he gazed down at her.

“Kiss me,” she told him, resting her arms beside her head in invitation, “Wherever you want to.”

Wherever turned out to be everywhere -- her cheeks, her mouth, down the length of her throat to linger at her breasts, tonguing her nipples and nipping at them gently, eyes constantly watching, studying what she liked. Hands stroking her as he slowly kissed his way down her body, only hesitating when he reached her carefully trimmed blonde curls. He laid a cautious kiss on her mound before gazing up at her uncertainly.

Cate parted her legs for him and Brian moved between them.

“Please, Cate, I… I don’t know…” he began.

“Lay over me,” she invited.

He did as she asked, moving slowly, careful not to rest any of his weight on her.

“L-like this?”

She smiled. “I’m not going to break if you rest on top of me, it’s okay.” She reached up, drawing him closer, running her hands down his back and spreading her legs, waiting for that moment when the bluntness of his cock grazed against her entrance, then reaching down between them to part her folds and guide him inside.

“Push,” she told him. “Push inside me.”

“I’ll hurt you, I…”

“No, you won’t, I promise. Let me feel you, Brian.”

He entered her so slowly, teeth biting down on his bottom lip, his body tense. Cate tilted her hips beneath him, waiting until the angle was perfect before wrapping her legs around him and urging him inside her.

“ _Cate_!”

“That feels so good,” she told him.

It took two or three slow, tentative stokes before Cate was gasping out his name, giving Brian all the encouragement he needed to let go of his restraint.

He didn’t last long, but Cate hadn’t expected him to, not his first time. His body froze, back bowing, arms trembling as they took his weight, his eyes wide and beautiful as he shuddered his release.

She pulled him down then, wrapping her arms around him and enjoying his loose limbed warmth as he slowly softened inside of her.

She stroked over his hair, kissing his forehead.

“Feel good?” she asked him.

He nodded, raising his head slowly, his eyes sated yet feverishly intense. “Did I..? Am I hurting you?”

“No,” she smiled at him. “It felt good and this is nice lying here, hmmh?”

He nodded again dropping a lazy kiss on the column of her throat.

“Did I please you?”

“You did. Couldn’t you tell?” she teased.

They lay there for a while, loose limbed and exhausted, barely moving until Brian started to feel too heavy as he drifted off into sleep. He had meds to take before he slept, and Cate had come close to forgetting. She let him slip out of her, straightening the comforter over them both before retrieving his pills and water from the nightstand where she’d left them earlier.

Brian was asleep within moments of her turning off the lamp, but Cate lay there for a long time, going over what she’d allowed to happen, uncertainty raising its head and making her wonder if she’d rushed this, taken things too far and pushed Brian.

She really didn’t know if it was the right decision, but she’d made it, no going back. 

~0~

Cate studied Brian as he slept, impressed by how well he’d managed today. Jeff had commented that he seemed more comfortable in his own skin and Cate couldn’t disagree with him. He’d looked good in the soft, corduroy jeans and long sleeved tee he’d worn, the green of which had brought out the color of his eyes. Last night she’d laid awake for hours pondering what they’d done, sure she’d made a mistake, that having a physical relationship with Brian was abusive and wrong, but he’d been so much more at ease today. She’d watched him interact with Sam at lunch time, standing at the buffet table, plate in hand, listening attentively to Sam as she pointed out what he could eat and what he should avoid.

He clearly liked Sam, and Jared too which surprised her; she thought he’d be a little too loud for Brian to cope with but Jared had grown up a lot over the past year, thinking things out more than he used to and maturing in a way she never would have expected.

Christmas Day was an informal affair in the Morgan household, so different to her parent’s house where despite the inevitable presence of her sister’s children, it was a formal almost to the point of being uncomfortable. 

Here there was Jeff’s son Bodhi, and Ryzer, Zack and Wendy’s inexhaustible little boy. Cate wasn’t particularly maternal, she’d never felt the urge to have children and refused to gush over anyone else’s, but if she did have a child she’d like one with personality and both boys had that in spades. Her sister’s children were odd, to Cate’s way of thinking -- disturbing miniature adults. Her mother adored them though, which made Cate wonder if she and her sister were equally precocious and strange when they were young.

She’d phoned her mother, as instructed. It hadn’t been the most productive of conversations, but then they seldom were as her mother preferred to skate around the larger issues and pick at trivialities. Understanding her mother’s thought processes had never been easy, but as an introduction to a career in psychology it had certainly proved useful.

Cate had debated exactly what time to phone, not wanting to interrupt anything, but inevitably her timing had been all wrong, and her call was inconvenient. Even so her mother had enquired briefly after Jeff and then Brian’s welfare before launching into her main topic. There are limits to how many fascinating and endlessly amusing anecdotes about her sister’s children Cate can take in one conversation. Being at Jeff’s instead was a relief.

Bodhi and Ryzer had, naturally, been the first to open their enormous haul of Christmas presents and had then helped to give out everyone else’s, under the direction of stand in Santa, Jeff. Being a father suited Jeff, pride burned in those twinkling eyes of his. He loved Bodhi, and Bodhi adored his dad. 

Cate had studied Brian’s face as he sat on the floor beside Jared, his shoulder warm against her knees. She was fascinated by the softness of his gaze as he watched the boys, noting the small smiles that he seemed so uncertain about giving, and the brightness of his eyes when he watched him interacted with his mother.

“Jeff said he might just as well have bought me wrapping paper and boxes when I was a kid,” Jared told them, laughing at Bodhi’s’s antics as he opened his gifts.

Cate saw Brian’s curious frown. “Jared has always lived with Jeff,” she explained, “Pretty much since he was a baby.”

“I don’t remember my mom,” Jared confirmed.

“Do you remember Christmas when you were small, Brian?”She asked him.

He shook his head. “I-I don’t remember my mom either, not my real mother,” He told Jared. “I just had a photograph of her with my dad.”

“What happened to it?”Jared asked him.

“You’re not allowed personal items at a Commerce School. They took it away.”

“Was… Was it bad there?” Jared wondered, a frown creasing his brows.

Brian shrugged. “Not so much.”

“Was it like normal school, I mean…” Jared glanced a little nervously at Cate, clearly uncertain if he should be asking these questions. 

Cate gave him a smile of encouragement. “Do you remember much about it, Brian?”

“I remember the things they taught me.”

“What kind of things?” Cate urged him.

“Reading, writing, arithmetic, manners, elocution, posture -- that kind of thing. The correct positions to assume, and how to hold them.”

It was Cate’s turn to frown. “Positions?”

“Kneel, sit, stand, display, submit, prostrate; those are the basic ones that every slave needs to know,” he explained. “We practiced those all the time. We learned other stuff too, different things depending on what kind of slave they thought you’d make.”

“Did you have any training similar to what they taught at Roche?”

Brian shivered a little at the mention of Roche but he answered. “No. Once you turned ten there were viewings, but I didn’t really know what was happening, what the viewings meant. You could be chosen by a master, be given extra lessons prior to Escrow if your prospective master wanted it.”

Cate couldn’t help wondering when Malkovich had chosen Brian but she didn’t ask him, not today.

“Did they let you celebrate things?” Jared asked him. “Birthdays, holidays, Christmas?”

Brian nodded. “They read out birthdays and if you earned any merits that year then you had to stand in front of everyone while they read them out. If you earned enough merits they presented you with a prayer book or bible. At Christmas there were no lessons, there was a service in the morning and afterwards everyone received a Christmas candy stocking. We got to play games too, and then there was a special Christmas dinner. In the evening they used to show a movie and that’s when you were allowed to eat your candy.”

“Was that the only holiday you celebrated?” Jared asked him.

“Kind of, there was an Easter service too, but that one wasn’t meant to be a celebration. You didn’t get gifts or anything, but there was no school that day so all the kids thought of it as a holiday, kind of like Sunday, but longer.”

Jared was confused. “What was Sunday?”

“The Sabbath. We had a service in the morning and then silent reading in the afternoon, no school on the Sabbath.”

According to the New Articles of Slavery, upon enslavement, regardless of origin or former belief, all US citizens became Christians. It was part of the Slave Welfare Act that slaves received suitable moral guidance and teaching. For children under twelve that teaching fell under the jurisdiction of the United Christian Churches of America. One year after the NAS had been passed in the US, the newly appointed Pope Innocent XIV had given it his blessing, an act that had caused outrage across Britain, France, Germany and a number of other northern European countries and had eventually led to a split, some five years later, within the Catholic Church and a resumption of the conflict between Britain and the IRA.

The complicity of the United Christian Churches in the slavery system had given successive US Governments a firm moral footing. A good number of devout Christians firmly believed that slaves were sinners, and that a life of slavery was God’s judgment, at least they did until it touched their lives.

“Do you believe in God, Brian?”

She saw him bite down on his bottom lip, eyes blinking rapidly, felt the slight tremor of nervousness in his body. He didn’t answer her straight away and Brian never really hesitated when he was asked a direct question.

“You don’t have to be afraid of telling me the truth about anything,” Cate assured him.

“I d-don’t believe,” he admitted.

“Nor do I,” she told him gently, running her fingers through his hair. “It seems we’re in good company.”

Brian had been surprised to receive gifts of his own, even a little embarrassed, by the attention as much as anything else. The leather flip-flops, similar to the ones Jared often wore, had been the best gift. They’d come from Jensen, who had urged Brian to put them on, try them out. They’d clearly been a hit, he hadn’t taken them off, even when they’d come back to their room.

The day had been a good one, lazy and fun, with too much food, too much drink for some and a host of games from charades to Rock Band. They’d started in on the movie watching as she and Brian had said their goodnights. 

Brian had done well, had seemed far more relaxed today, watching everything in that intense way of his, even laughing a little. He was tired though, something she knew he was trying his best to hide from her in his continual efforts to please her.

She could have left him an hour or two ago, gone back to the fun and games downstairs, maybe had a drink, but she’d felt strangely content to just sit and read her book, watch him sleep.

She was almost ready to turn in herself when she remembered her talk with Sam about the crackers to help Brian’s morning nausea. She slipped a dressing gown over her PJ’s and made her way downstairs. She was halfway to the kitchen when she, almost literally, bumped into Jeremy. He was loaded down with what looked like cakes, a bottle of wine tucked under one arm and two glasses hanging by their stems from his fingers. The guilty, caught in the act, little boy look made her laugh out loud.

“Midnight snack?” She asked him.

“Let’s just say our energy reserves are running low,” he grinned, eyebrow arching wickedly. “What’s your excuse?”

“I need crackers, they might help with Brian’s nausea in the mornings; it was something Sam suggested. Is she still up?”

The eyebrow arched again giving her that ‘do I look like an idiot?’ face. “Do you see me with healthy snacks, a tray, cups of tea? No, you see me skulking with sugary treats and wine.”

“You’re scared of Sam?” Cate grinned. 

“Petrified, but you’ll note that I’m man enough to admit it.”

“Duly noted. Good night, Jer’.”

Jeremy nodded but then paused, looking at her thoughtfully. “I was going to say something to you today, but… There never seemed a right time.”

Cate frowned in concern. “Is something wrong?” Jeremy had seemed so happy lately. 

“Wrong? No,  _no_ ,” he laughed. “Everything’s great actually. I just wanted to say something about Brian. He suits you, Cate.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant. “Suits me?”

“I’ve been watching you, since yesterday. I’ve never seen you more… you.”

“More me?”

“I love you, Cate, you know that, but sometimes I don’t know where Cate the therapist ends and Cate the person begins, but around Brian I just see you. It’s a good look on you. That’s not… I like you, no matter what, adore you, in my own sweet, totally beguiling way.” He frowned. “You’re not pissed with me are you?”

 _Was she_? “No, no I’m not.” She told him, honestly. “I guess my heart’s been on my sleeve a lot just lately, things haven’t been easy for Brian.”

“No, I imagine not, poor bastard. If there’s anything I can do, Cate, anything at all, you only have to ask.”

“Thanks, Jer’, I appreciate it. I’d kiss you but…”

“I’d drop the snacks, the wine, loose my tentative grip on the front of this dressing gown…”

Cate laughed. “Goodnight, Merton,” She teased.

“’Night, Catey.”

~0~

Cate couldn’t understand how a kitchen that produced as much wonderful food as Sam’s could look as immaculate as it did. There was nothing out of place, the counter tops were spotless, gleaming like something from a better homes and gardens advertisement. 

No trace of any crackers of course, or even a clue where to look. Perhaps near the cookie jar, though she couldn’t actually remember just where Sam kept it. She started looking through cupboards at random, without a whole lot of luck.

“There a reason why you’re ransacking the kitchen?”

Cate jumped a mile as the voice came from somewhere behind her. She stood up from the unit where she was crouched to see Kane, barefoot and bare-chested, leant against the counter.

“Do you know where Sam keeps the crackers?”

“Top cupboard, third on your right.”

She checked it and found what she was looking for, aware of Kane’s continued presence behind her as he moved around the kitchen. “Thanks.”

Kane nodded to her, bottle of water in hand. “Don’t you need cheese to go with those?”

She’d not really spoken to Kane today. After what had happened at the dinner, she couldn’t bring herself to. “They’re for Brian, Sam thinks they’ll help with his nausea in the morning.”

“’Kay.” He folded well muscled arms over his chest. “I wanted to catch you, speak to you, about last night, but I get the impression you’ve been pretty much avoiding me all day.”

“That’s true,” she admitted. “You’re not exactly my favorite person right now, Kane.”

“I guess not.” He inclined his head slightly. “I didn’t mean to…” He scraped a hand through his hair. “Hurting him is the last thing I wanted to do, okay?”

“So why did you?”

Kane sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“So uncomplicated it for me, Christian, and tell me why.”

“What, so you can go all fuckin’ Freud on my ass?” He shook his head. “Not gonna happen, Cate, sorry. Stick with the psychology project you’ve already got.”

It wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. “Is that what you think Brian is?”

“What is he then, tell me?” Kane demanded. “Your body slave? Are you  _that_  desperate for a fuck?”

Her open handed slap connected with his face before she even realized what she was doing, the sound of the blow echoing loudly in the quiet of the empty kitchen. The second she hit him she wanted to take it back.

“Christian, I’m sorry.”

He rubbed a hand over his cheek, eyes wide, and smirk in place. “Can’t say I saw that one coming -- thought you were way too much of an ice queen.”

Cate frowned. “What’s this about, why all the hostility? Do you really think that Brian is some kind of, of…” She shook her head. “You weren’t there; you didn’t see that place, the state Brian was in. You can’t begin to imagine what they did to him, what he’s been through…”

“Yeah?” Kane dropped his head, eyes on the water bottle he was holding in his hands. “Well don’t be too sure of that, Cate.” He looked up at her again, blue eyes vivid. “Don’t be too sure.”

Part of Cate wanted to dig at that answer, push him to tell her more, but she was fairly certain that would shut him up completely. Instead she gave in, not sure how much Jeff had told any of them about how she’d come to own Brian. “I went to Roche with Reece Witherspoon‘ she’s been under pressure to buy a new body slave and she wanted some moral support. We saw them using Brian while we were being given the grand tour.” She shuddered a little at the memory, if anything it was even more uncomfortable to look back on it now. “Buying him, buying anyone was the furthest thing from my mind, but it… I just couldn’t have left him there.”

“Not an ice queen at all, huh?” There was a small smile on his face, not mocking this time, but gentle.

“ _God_ , no!” She tried to smile back but was as close to tears as she was to smiling.

“I think I might swap the water for a beer, you want one?” He opened the refrigerator. “Or there’s some wine here.”

“Beer would be good.”

He brought out two long necks, twisting off the caps and setting them down on top of the island, pulling out a stool and sitting down. Cate took the invitation for what it was, sitting down with him and taking a sip of the cold beer.

“Guess I should have got my facts right before being an asshole.”

“And maybe Jeff should have filled you in on things.” As much as she loved him she was the first to admit that Jeff could be an idiot, even with the best of intentions. “I thought you knew,” Cate told him. “I presumed everyone knew.”

“You can be sure I’ll discuss that with him.” Kane raised a pointed eyebrow then broke the look with a smile. “Sorry.”

“ _Ice_  queen?”

Kane laughed. “ _That_  got to you? Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get ruffled before, even last night, you snapped a little, but…”

“I wasn’t going to get into it with you in front of Brian. Last night, all of this, it’s hard for him to deal with, and part of me thinks it was wrong to have brought him here so soon, but then… He did so well today.”She shrugged. “At dinner last night I just couldn’t work out what had gotten into you, I still can’t.”

Kane took a long slow hit on his beer eyes fixed on hers, but she couldn’t read the expression in them at all. “Tell me what it was like for him, Roche.”

“Total degradation, sexual assaults, rape, beatings, all of it constant, sanctioned. No windows, never being allowed outside, drugged, confused and maybe worst of all being grateful.”

Kane frowned. “Grateful?”

“Because as bad as it was, being a horse, it’s nothing to what he went through before in the labs. He can barely mention it, there’s just fear, so much fear.”

“Fuck!” The beer slammed down on the countertop and she watched him run a hand through his hair once more, his expression pained. “I-if…” his voice was choked when it came out, hoarse with feeling. “If not for Jeff that would have been me, I’ve always known that. It scared me, it still  _fucking_ scares me that this whole thing could go belly up and I could… How the fuck do you survive that, how do you…”

“Hey,” Cate put down her beer, ran a hand gently over Kane’s arm.

“ _Don’t_! Just fucking don’t, okay? I’m fine, I…”

“No, you’re  _not_.” She slipped off her stool to wrap her arms around his shoulders, felt him stiffen expecting at any moment to be pushed away, probably as surprised as Kane was when he slipped his arms around her and just clung. 

She wondered why she’d not seen this before, but then maybe she had, maybe they’d all seen it and promptly ignored it, dismissing it as one of his moods and leaving Kane alone to get over himself. Fear in the form of aggression was nothing new, classic in fact, but so often ignored. Kane was Kane, belligerent, cantankerous, moody as hell and hard as nails, but Cate knew Kane’s history, at least Jeff’s version of it: Seven owners in eight years, until Jeff came along and Jeff’s own complicated, guilt ridden, and obsessive reason for buying him. 

How much had Kane been left to deal with alone?

Cate planted a kiss on top of Kane’s head, wrapping her arms just a little tighter around him.

~0~

Brian pushed down a surge of panic when he realized he was lost. Jeff Morgan’s house was so much larger than Lady Blanchett’s and it was so long since he’d been allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied. Lady Blanchett had trusted him to go to the kitchen alone, ask the woman Sam for some extra towels. He thought he knew the way but… He’d never been in this room before, didn’t recognize it. He just needed to think, go back the way he’d come until things were familiar. He could do this.

There was a piano, a baby grand in the window. Its lid was open to reveal the keys beneath. Without realizing, he’d crossed the room for a closer look, lightly running the tip of his finger along the highly polished dark wood beneath the keys. It was a fairly modern piano as pianos went, but still a Bechstein and a thing of beauty. 

“Brian?” 

The deep voice startled him and he dropped to his knees automatically, unable to keep a flush of guilt from his face.

“Hey, hey, none of that now,” Jeff Morgan told him, crossing the room to take his arm, urge him to his feet. “You don’t have to do that here, Brian, okay?”

He rose obediently. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You get turned around?”

He kept his head down respectfully, nodded. “Yes sir. Lady Blanchett sent me to the kitchen t-to ask Sam for extra towels. I-I thought I knew the way.”

“Just took a wrong turn. I’ll show you. Do you like the piano?”

“Yes, sir,” he admitted.

“I inherited it from my grandmother, along with this house. She loved to play. I never took more than the odd lesson,” he sighed. “I kind of regret not sticking with it now, you know? Kane can bang out a tune though. Do you play?”

“Yes, sir.” Brian nodded, the knowledge that he could a strange and sudden thing. He’d not forgotten, not really, he just hadn’t needed to remember. “At least…” He hesitated. “I used to play.”

“Want to see if you still can?”

Brian took the risk of lifting his eyes in an attempt to gage whether Morgan was being serious. The man’s calm smile didn’t tell him a whole lot.

“I-I shouldn’t,” he stammered out his uncertainty. “Lady Blanchett, she…”

“I can guarantee, Cate won’t mind one bit,” Morgan assured him. “Give it a try.”

Brian turned uncertainly back to the piano. His fingers almost ached to touch the keys. He’d been young when he’d first started to learn, he remembered. Young and new to the Commerce run school, crying silent tears every night for his dad to come and take him home. He remembered taking his turn to sit with the old man at the keyboard, it was his first ever music lesson. He’d been so afraid of making a mistake and being punished. He hadn’t made any though, he’d been praised instead. The lessons had been regular after that, first once each week with the old man, then later, as he progressed, twice a week with a different teacher, a woman, Mrs Kempff. 

He glanced at Jeff Morgan again and the man nodded his encouragement. “C’mon, Brian, please?”

He gave the man a nod and with only a little hesitation he found himself pulling out the piano stool and sitting down. Memories, so  _many_  memories, rushed in at an overwhelming rate, so much so that he felt his breath start to shorten. He pushed down that feeling of panic, concentrated instead on the piano in front of him. Lord Malkovich had been delighted that he could play so well, hiring teachers to continue his training while he was young. He had always loved to hear him play, would have him perform for his guests, proud of his talent. He had played a modern, but expensive, Yamaha at first until the Lord had replaced it with the concert grand.

 _“Beautiful, Brian, so beautiful.” His Lord’s hands came to rest lightly on his shoulders as he played, fingers stroking lightly over the silk of his shirt. “Stop playing now, close the cover on the keys and rest your hands on top.”_

 _He did as he was told._

 _“Do you like the new piano, Brian?” The hands moved from his shoulders to reach down and slowly unbutton his shirt._

 _“Yes, my lord.”_

 _“As you should, Blüthner pianos have been used by some of history’s greatest composers; Brahms, Mahler, Bartok, Debussy, Wagner, Shostakovich, Tchaikovsky among them. This particular instrument was built in 1910, can you even imagine that Brian?”_

 _“No my lord.”_

 _“No, of course not, how could you?”He moved aside the collar of the unbuttoned shirt, nipped and sucked at Brian’s neck, his occasional shivers echoed by his lord’s smiles against his skin. “Unfasten your cuffs.”_

 _He did as he was told and the shirt was peeled off him._

 _“Rest your hands back on the cover.” The hands moved around again to unfasten the button and fly on his trousers. “Do you know why I bought this piano Brian? Why I paid $400,000 for it?”_

 _“No, my lord.”_

 _“Because all I could think about was you playing it for me before I bent you over it and fucked you. Stand up, take off the rest of your clothes.”_

 _He did as he was told, removing his shoes and socks before taking off his pants._

 _“Good, now lower the music stand and lean over, arms outstretched along the top.”_

 _Brian heard the piano stool being moved behind him as he stretched out resting his cheek against the ornate fretwork of the music stand._

 _“So beautiful, just as I imagined. We’re going to take our time with this Brian, so let’s see if you prepared yourself correctly for me, shall we? Spread your legs nice and wide... Wider.”_   
  
__

_He knows he’ll soon be feeling the ache from the uncomfortable spread of his legs, wonders how long he’ll have to stay like this, knows he shouldn’t be thinking that way. There’s no pleasure without pain, and there will be pleasure today, he’s almost certain that Lord Malkovich is pleased with him._   
  
__

_The fingers that push inside him do so with slow, practised ease. It isn’t comfortable but he keeps still, remains silent. His lord knows his body intimately, knows exactly how and where to get the responses he desires. The first time his lord touched him like this was in the limousine after Lord Malkovich had collected him from Escrow. Trousers pulled down to his ankles, bent over his Lord’s lap, he’d been spanked hard until he gave up, stopped struggling. He’d thought at the time that the feel of that single finger being forced inside of him was the worst thing ever, the truth was it was just the first thing._   
  
__

_The fingers are withdrawn to be replaced by the blunt, moist head of Lord Malkovich’s cock at his entrance. It had been hours since he’d been told to prepare himself, this wouldn’t be a comfortable fuck. He felt the first push, tried to relax._

 _“You’ll keep absolutely still for me Brian or the next time you play piano will be after five strokes from the crop.”_

“God, you weren’t kidding when you said you could play.” 

Jeff Morgan’s voice came from just over his shoulder pulling him out of his memory. He hadn’t even realized he was playing until the man spoke. 

“What is that?”

“W-Winter Chimes,” he remembered, it was one of the few contemporary pieces that Lord Malkovich had liked. “Kevin Macleod, h-he’s the composer.”

“And you can play it just like that, you don’t need music?”

 _“So beautiful… Spread your legs, bend you over, fuck you… Five strokes from the crop, no pleasure without pain…”_   


“I-I don’t remember.” He fumbled the notes suddenly, messing the whole thing up, pulling his hands away from the keys to hide them beneath his armpits. “Sorry, I…”

“Hey, no, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.” Morgan crouched down beside the piano stool. “That was my fault. I should have kept my mouth shut, just let you play.” Morgan’s hand reached up to knead his shoulder. “You still with me, Brian?”

Keeping his head down he gave two quick nods, not trusting himself to answer, hoping that would be alright, hoping the whirl of voices and pictures crowding out his head would just stop or at least slow down.

“The memories are really kicking your ass, huh?”

Brian rubbed at the spike of pain beneath his brow. “They, they pile up on me sometimes,” he admitted.

“Do you tell Cate, talk to her about them?”

“Sometimes.” He knuckled his fists a little harder against his forehead as the pain started to blossom.

“You’re not looking too good. You got a headache, Brian?”

He nodded his head again and instantly wished he hadn’t.

“We need to get you back to your room. Do you think you can stand?”

Could he? He wasn’t sure. 

Morgan seemed to take that as a no. “Just hang on there for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

His head had started to throb, and the light from the windows was sending spikes of pain through his head. He screwed his eyes closed, putting his hands over them when that didn’t seem to be working. He felt so dizzy, not sure if he was going to be sick or pass out.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the piano stool, but the touch of someone’s hand on his shoulder startled him sending new shards of pain spiking up through his head.

“Hey, Brian. Let’s get you to bed, huh?” Jeff Morgan’s voice.

Another set of hands, large and strong, wrapping around him. “It’s okay, Brian, just let us take your weight.” Another voice, soft and concerned, and he recognized it as Jared’s.

The nausea increased as they hauled him to his feet and the room seemed to spin. He tried to keep his eyes open but the light hammered them closed, the pain too much.

“Easy, sweetheart, we’ve got you, it’s okay.”

His legs felt less than useless, giving out under him numerous times as they took him back to the room. He wasn’t sure how he’d kept the nausea under control all that time but, as they sat him down and the world took another sickening lurch, he lost it, throwing up repeatedly, unable to stop himself, do anything.

Things blurred into one, voices all around him too loud, talking all at once, driving the pain in his head higher and higher and then…

“I think he’s coming around a little bit.” A soft voice, Jensen?

He felt something cool, wet and he tried to get away from it, didn’t want it touching him. Didn’t want…

He felt someone grab his wrists, hold them.

“It’s okay, Brian,” Lady Blanchett’s voice, clear in his head. “Don’t fight it, Jensen and I just need to get you cleaned up a little. Just relax.”

Just Lady Blanchett, Jensen. He tried to do as she said, relax, be still, to not shy away from the touch of the cool cloth against his skin.

“Almost done.” Jensen, always quiet.

“Dr Craig will be here soon, he’ll soon have you feeling better.”

“Head hurts,” he told her, tried to. Wasn’t sure how long ago she’d spoken to him.

“I know, mate. I’m going to make it go away now.” He felt himself being rolled, cold swab of alcohol on his hip.

“No p-please, don’t…” He tried to reach out, stop the nurse, the red haired nurse, it had to be her, he didn’t like her…

“You’re just going to sleep Brian, nothing to be afraid of.” Not the nurse, Dr Craig.

“No one’s going to hurt you, Brian.” Gentle fingers on his face, barely there sting at his hip.

“C-Cate.”

“Right here, I’m not leaving you, just go to sleep now.” The fingers felt so good, cool. He was so tired. “That’s it, just relax,” her voice whispered. “Relax…”

~0~

Brian woke slowly, his eyes opening to gaze at an unfamiliar clock sat on the bedside table in an equally unfamiliar room. It took him a minute to really focus, realize that the room was familiar. This was Jeff Morgan’s house. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before sitting up slowly, wary, remembering the headache and thankful no trace of it lingered.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

The voice startled him and he looked up to see Jared sat in a chair beside the bed, a book in his lap. 

“Jared?”

“Hey,” he smiled, broad and happy. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he admitted. “What are you doing here?”

“Studying.” He held the book up for Brian to see. “I go to veterinary school. Got a test when we go back after the holidays.”

Brian found himself returning that smile. “I meant sitting beside my bed.” There was something about Jared that Brian liked, felt comfortable around, even if he wasn’t sure why.

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled. “Jeff and that doctor Danny guy made Cate go out for some fresh air with them. She’s barely left this room since we brought you up here yesterday, her and Jensen both. Jensen’s kind of wiped, and Jeff insisted he get some sleep. Cate was kicking up a fuss about you waking up on your own, so...”

“So you volunteered?”

“I need to review, and I’m easily distracted,” he admitted, the smile still there. “Plus it’s good to feel useful once in a while.” 

“I didn’t know a slave could go to college.” 

“I don’t think there are all that many who do, but it’s allowed, if it’s something your Master wants, a well educated slave can be useful. I don’t think Jensen had ever heard of it either. He used to think I was some dumbass kennel boy.”

“I used to like Lord Malkovich’s kennels, being with the dogs, away from things.”

“Dobermans you said?”

Brian nodded. “He bred them, showed them. Kept some as house dogs at all of his houses,” Brian remembered. He treated the dogs far better than he’d treated the majority of his slaves.

“Jeff doesn’t breed them, he just kinda takes them in, not just dogs, we’ve got all kinds of animals. If the doc thinks you’re okay then we could go up there later, maybe take the dogs for a run.”

Brian thought he’d probably like that.

~0~

Brian liked Jared, and enjoyed their daily walks with the dogs. At first he wasn’t too certain because as pleasant as he seemed, Jared liked to touch people, pull them in, wrap those long arms of his around them, and he wasn’t too sure he could cope with that. He wasn’t sure if Jared sensed his uncertainty or if Cate had said something, because he hesitated and pulled back. Brian was grateful, tried to show him that with smiles he knew must look awkward. It was getting easier though, being around people like this, getting through the day without the continual instruction he’d been used to. Conversation was hard though, he couldn’t do it, not really. Maybe that explained why being around Jared was so easy. He talked all the time and didn’t mind that Brian didn’t always know how to answer, he’d just carry on, grinning wide, long arms busy with expansive gestures. 

It had felt strange to watch Jared walk off with the dogs. He wanted to explain why he couldn’t go with him today, but he couldn’t get the words out past the pictures in his head and the memory of a voice telling him no over and over, couldn’t say anything but sorry.

“Hey, that’s fine, man.” There had been so much concern in the young face, but no questions, just a small squeeze to his arm. “We’re okay for tomorrow though, right?”

Brian had nodded. “Tomorrow.”

“Cool. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Jared’s smile was something he couldn’t get enough of; broad, dimpled and with so much joy in it, so much… not innocence exactly, Brian wasn’t stupid enough to think that, but something about Jared, something… untainted maybe. 

Brian had taken a seat on the wall, watched Jared until he was out of sight. He wondered whether to go back inside the house, but he knew he was supposed to be out getting fresh air. He brought his knees up under his chin, wrapped his arms around them and just sat.

A hand, coming to rest on his shoulder, startled Brian a little as it pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Dr Craig. The doctor and his body slave had been invited to stay at Jeff Morgan’s for the New Year celebrations.

“Hey, Brian.” He smiled and held out one of the two bottles he was holding. “I saw you sat out here, thought you could probably use a drink.”

Brian unwrapped his arms from around his knees, taking the offered bottle and looking at it curiously.

“It’s just a soda,” the doctor told him, coming to sit beside him on the wall, his legs dangling. “It’s called ‘Peony Leaf’. Jake just about lives off the stuff. It reminds me of the Turkish Delight you used to be able to get when I was a kid.” He laughed. “Try it, see what you think.”

Brian unscrewed the lid of the ice-cold drink and, copying the doctor, drank a little straight from the bottle. The fizz and the feel of the bubbles hitting the back of his throat surprised him and he found himself choking out a cough.

“You okay?” Dr Craig asked him.

He nodded, wiping at his mouth, a little embarrassed by his clumsiness. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m guessing it’s a while since you had a soda.”

Brian couldn’t remember ever drinking anything like this before. The only drink he’d ever had with bubbles in it was the occasional sip of champagne. He could remember Lord Malkovich holding the glass to his lips, telling him to drink. It had only happened on rare occasions -- Lord Malkovich didn’t permit his slaves to have alcohol, considered it to be the bane of the lower classes. There were dire consequences for any slave that broke that rule.

“I don’t remember drinking it before,” he admitted, when he realized the doctor was waiting for a reply.

“Like it?” He could feel those assessing blue eyes on him.

“Yes, sir, thank you,” the reply was automatic.

He heard the other man sigh. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it, Brian.”

“I…” He knew he’d somehow done wrong, he just wasn’t sure what he’d done or how to fix it. He’d learned the hard way that it was usually better just to admit and apologize, even if you didn’t know what you’d done and hope that whatever came next would be lessened by your admission.

He fought the urge to get down from the wall and drop to his knees, having been told repeatedly it wasn’t done here. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He heard the sigh again but didn’t chance looking up to check the man’s expression, he kept his head bowed instead.

“You haven’t done anything to be sorry for, mate. Christ, it’s so easy to forget how difficult things must be for you sometimes. There’s nothing wrong, Brian. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” He risked an uneasy glance at the man and found it met by a smile.

“So,” the doctor asked him. “Why aren’t you off with… Jared, is it, walking the dogs?”

“They went to the b-beach.”

“I thought you liked the sea. Thought a walk on the beach might have been something you’d enjoy?”

“It’s not permitted.” Brian explained.

“What? Who said it’s not, Cate, Jeff?”

“ Corrections. I-I didn’t mean to, I just…” He swallowed. “It’s not permitted, they told me and I remembered.”

“Wait, just hang on a minute, Brian. What happened, what didn’t you mean to do, can you tell me?”

He nodded. He’d been sat here remembering ever since Jared left.

“I shouldn’t have left the car,” he admitted.

“Tell me from the beginning, Brian,” Dr Craig said, quietly.

 _Lord Malkovich’s meeting at the Port Authority offices seemed to be going on forever. It happened sometimes, and Brian had long become used to it. He’d been attending these things since he was a kid._

 _The men from the Port Authority, the Mayor, the unions and their collection of lawyers weren’t used to having a slave at their meetings, not a body slave. He’d noticed their faces when he’d joined them in the conference room collar in evidence, unpacking the files from his Lord’s briefcase and laying them out in order before kneeling beside his chair. He doubted any of these men owned a slave, it was obvious from their attitude, the surreptitious stares, the glares. There wasn’t one of them that could afford a slave, not even the mayor with his badly fitting, fake Kaplmeyer suit. Even the lawyers looked underdressed when compared to Lord Malkovich’s team._

 _The lawyers were the ones doing most of the talking, the lawyers and the leader of the Longshoremen’s Association. The union leader, more than anyone else in the room, made it clear that he was unhappy that Brian was there, he’d pointed him out, calling him a poor bastard and talked about poor bastards like him, gaining him nods of agreement from some of the other men._

 _As much as these people claimed to feel sorry for him, no one had felt sorry enough to find him a mat to kneel on._

 _Brian hadn’t reacted to what the man said about him, hadn’t twitched or moved. He knew Lord Malkovich wouldn’t be happy if he did. He was rewarded by the touch of his Lord’s fingers to his cheek, commanding his attention._

 _“Whilst we’re being so very concerned about the welfare of the slave labor force, and Brian here in particular, it’s time he had a bathroom break,” Lord Malkovich told them. “Do you have separate facilities?”_

 _“No, sir,” the mayor spoke up. “We do not!”_

 _“Then it’s something I would suggest you take a look at gentlemen. The Senate will vote this week to pass legislation that stipulates all public buildings must designate separate facilities for slaves. I have it on good authority that the vote will be in favor.” He turned to Brian. “Ten minutes, no more, and be sure to wipe down after yourself.”_

 _“Yes, my Lord.”_

 _He didn’t really need a bathroom break but he was grateful for the opportunity to get up, stretch his legs a little._

 _He used the men’s bathroom then carefully dusted down the knees of his pants, quickly removing traces of lint from the carpet as best he could before making his way back to the conference room. He liked this building. It was old, the walls hung with paintings of ships and there were glass cases containing bells and a ships wheel, old charts and books. The windows along the corridor were high and arched with a spectacular view over the harbor and…_

 _Brian frowned at the familiarity of it, stopping in his tracks to peer out. He knew this place, the harbor, the town beyond. There were differences, some new buildings, other parts changed, shabbier than he remembered, but there was still no mistaking it, this was home._

 _Home._

 _He hadn’t thought about home in so long but he couldn’t stop now, couldn’t think about anything else as he made his way back to the conference room, dropping to his knees beside Lord Malkovich, conscious that his Lord was checking his wristwatch. He knew he must be close to the ten minutes he was given, but for once he didn’t care._

 _He’d avoided thinking about his family, his dad, for so long. Thinking about them, about what they did, it just brought pain, of one kind or another._

 _The life he’d shared with his family seemed a lifetime away, and a world apart, but all this time he’d been just an hour’s journey away from home._

 _He tried to work out how old his dad would be now and the twins. He wouldn’t know them, they wouldn’t know him, they were adults now and his dad… His dad would be what, fifty?_

 _Brian’s thoughts were distracted by raised voices in the conference room, shouting from the Longshoreman’s leader who had called him a bastard. He wanted to tell the man that he was wrong, that he had a family, a father, right here._

 _Lord Malkovich’s lawyers were trying to calm things down, their voices measured and reasonable. His Lord didn’t speak at all, just moved lazily in his chair his hand reaching out to run fingers through Brian’s hair._

 _Even as he leaned instinctively into the touch Brian knew the signs; his Lord was irritated, not with him, he was almost certain of that, but with these men._

 _“I’ve heard enough.” Lord Malkovich’s voice cut through the uproar in the room, startling everyone, making Brian cringe, but the hand that gently cupped the base of his skull remained gentle, comforting. “I came here today offering you people the chance to revitalize what’s left of your fishing industry. I have negotiated, and won, substantial fishing rights, you have the copies of the contracts right there in front of you. In what, apparently, was a loyal but foolish gesture, on my part, I thought of my own state first and brought my offer here to you.”_

 _“Your terms are simply unacceptable,” the man from the union spoke up again._

 _“Unacceptable?” Lord Malkovich laughed._

 _“With respect, Lord Malkovich,” the mayor cut in. “The processing and packaging plants you propose would open up hundreds of new jobs in this area. To stipulate that those plants use only slave labor… You must understand that this is a deprived area…”_

 _“Mayor… Hodges, is it?”_

 _“Yes, my Lord.”_

 _“You seem to be under a misapprehension. I am not a philanthropist I am a businessman. This is a new business venture for me and it has to turn a profit to be viable. You have, what in essence is a moth-balled trawler fleet together with the crews that I need, and that gentlemen is what I’m willing to substantially invest in. To make a profit I have to make savings elsewhere, a slave labor force is therefore the answer, no high wage bills and less mechanization.”_

 _“People have voiced concerns,” Mayor Hodges said quietly. “They’re not happy about the slaves being barracked locally, and there…” He pulled in a nervous breath. “There has been some talk about welfare issues.”_

 _“None of that matters a damn, Hodges, and you know it,” the longshoreman interrupted. “What you need to understand, Malkovich, is that my longshoremen just aren’t gonna stand for you using these bastards taking jobs away from the rest of us. As far as we’re concerned that’s just not open to negotiation.”_

 _“So you’ve said, repeatedly.” Lord Malkovich sighed._

 _“Ball’s in your court, Malkovich.”_

 _“There is no ball.” His Lord’s voice was quiet, controlled. His gentle touch to Brian’s scalp had continued throughout the conversation, but Brian knew his master’s moods, recognized the barely concealed fury. “There is no ball, there is no court,” he continued. “There are no fishing contracts…”_

 _“But, my Lord, if we could just talk this…”_

 _“He’s bluffing, Hodges.”_

 _“In addition I withdraw my business, no crop or livestock from the Malkovich Farms will pass through these docks.”_

 _“You can’t fucking do that!”_

 _“I can do whatever I wish. This conversation is over gentlemen.”_

 _Two taps to his shoulder and Brian rose fluidly to his feet, retrieving his Lord’s briefcase and packing away his files, ignoring the pandemonium that had broken out in the conference room. Once that was done he moved behind his Lord’s chair, pulling it out as he got to his feet. He retrieved the briefcase and followed his Lord out of the room, the lawyers hastily following in their wake._

 _Their limousine, and the other that brought the lawyers to the meeting, was waiting outside, both drivers getting out and opening the car doors. Lord Malkovich paused halfway to the car, his temper on display now as he turned to one of his lawyers._

 _“The head of the Longshoreman’s Association?”_

 _“Peter Agostino, your lordship.”_

 _“I want you to find out how much debt that man and his family are in and buy it, every last cent of it. I want a slavery contract on my desk for that man within the month. Do I make myself clear?”_

 _“Yes, my lord, I’ll deal with it personally.”_

 _“Lord Malkovich!” It was Mayor Hodges and some of the others from the Port Authority, no sign of Agostino or the other union leaders._

 _“Our conversation is over, Mayor Hodges.”_

 _“Please, my Lord. You’ve made us a very generous offer, we accept that. There must be a way we can compromise.”_

 _“I have compromised.”_

 _“Please, my Lord, can we at least table another meeting?”_

 _Lord Malkovich sighed, his eyes fixed on Hodges, well manicured finger tapping thoughtfully against his lips. “There would have to be certain guarantees…”_

 _“Of course, my Lord.”_

 _“Very well. Let’s go back inside and see if we can find a mutually acceptable date, shall we? Perhaps a month from now.”He turned to his lawyers, “Gentlemen?”_

 _The lawyers started to file back into the building._

 _Lord Malkovich turned to Brian, eyes softening a little. “You can wait in the car, Brian. This will only take a few minutes.”_

 _He nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”_

 _Kneeling in the limousine was far more comfortable than the floor of the Port Authority conference room. His kneeling mat was padded, more of a cushion really and Brian was used to it. Edward;. Lord Malkovich’s chauffer, left the door open before lighting a cigarette and walking up to speak to the driver of the other limo._

 _Brian stared out, the familiarity of this place striking him once more. He tried to get his bearings, uncertain now if this really was his home, and yet… It was, he did know this road, could place the buildings. He knelt up further, eyes scanning the intersection further down the road. That was the road, he was sure of it, the road that led home._

 _Edwards and the other driver were talking, laughing, and there was no one leaving the building, no one around. He could look, couldn’t he? Just go and take a look._

“You got out of the car?” Dr Craig asked him.

He nodded. “I wasn’t running away, I just… I had to know.”

“Did you find them?”

He shook his head. “The apartment where we’d lived, the whole block, it was gone, demolished I guess. There was a thrift store there instead.” He swallowed. “I didn’t know what to do, I just… I just stood there. I wanted to ask someone but I was afraid to. There was a beach not far away, a place I used to go all the time with my dad, so I went there. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just stayed there under the pier, even when the rain started.”

“How long were you there?”

“A-all night, maybe half the n-next day, just walking on the beach. The police f-found me, arrested me.”

“What happened then?”

“I was in the cells for a couple of days, they… they were okay, they knew I w-was scared, you know?”

Dr Craig nodded.

“Then I was taken to C-Corrections.”

“From what I’ve heard it’s pretty bad there.”

Brian bit his lip, nodded. “C-corrective training.”

“Tell me something, Brian, honestly, would you run away again?”

“N- _no_!” Brian met the doctor’s eyes, terrified he might think that.

“No, of course not,” Dr Craig reassured him. “A walk on the beach isn’t suddenly going to make you want to run away again, Brian. It’s just a method they use, it’s called conditioning. They make you associate an image, a thought, a place, with punishment. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Brian frowned. They’d shown him pictures in Corrections, the same things over and over, every time they took him to that claustrophobic little room, unable to move, to look away or close his eyes, he could still remember the pain, the ear-splitting voices so loud that the room seemed to shake.

“I didn’t mean to r-run away, I just wanted to see them, j-just to see…” He’d tried to tell them that back then, tried to explain, but no one had wanted to listen.

“I know, mate...” He felt the doctor’s hand squeeze his shoulder. “I know.”

~0~

Cate was in the sun room with Jeff, trying but failing to read her book, when Daniel came back.

“You’ve been gone for a while, is everything okay?” They’d all been concerned when they noticed Brian hadn’t gone for his usual walk with Jared. Daniel had volunteered to go and see what was wrong and Cate had let him, regretting the decision not to go herself the moment she made it. “Where’s Brian?”

“He’s with Jared. We caught up with him on the beach, they’re going to stay up at the kennels for a while.” Daniel ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign that something was troubling him.

“What’s wrong?” She asked him, putting down the book, worried by the expression on Daniel’s face, by the fact that he still hadn’t sat down.

“Brian told me a few things… Did you bring his provenance with you?”

“No, I didn’t think we’d need it.”

“You can access it on line,” Jeff pointed out, pushing his reading glasses further down his nose.

Cate shook her head. “Not the full document, not without Brian’s Slave Registration Number.”

“Which is at home?” Daniel asked her.

She nodded.

“Fuck it,” Daniel sighed.

Cate wanted to know why it was important, started to ask as Jeff spoke.

“Didn’t Jensen phone you for the number?”

“For Brian’s shoe size,” she remembered. “Yes he did. Do you think he might still have it?”

Jeff smiled. “Jensen is the most organized person I’ve ever met. I can guarantee you he’s filed it away somewhere.”

“Where is he?”

“In my office, I think. Jer brought some new software system for the household accounts that he’s been wanting to install, apparently the one I was using was antiquated but idiot proof.” He rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

The last time Cate had seen Jeff’s office it had been a claustrophobic looking storeroom of sorts. Everything that didn’t seem to have a place ended up in there and there were mountains of paperwork sitting around gathering dust. That of course had been before the arrival of Jensen. The room was now spotless, a regular office with a desk, chairs, computer, filing cabinets. There were no paperwork mountains, nothing out of place at all.

Jensen looked up from the computer when they came in, his surprised expression changing to a smile.

“Jensen, do you still have Brian’s slave registration number written down somewhere?” Jeff asked him.

“No,” he shook his head. “I didn’t think it was fitting, Brian not being a part of this household.”

“Damn it!” Daniel let out a loud sigh.

“So why did you want to look at his provenance?” Cate asked him. “Is it important enough for me to go home and get it?”

“Brian wouldn’t take a walk on the beach with Jared and the dogs because he was afraid to. It’s some kind of conditioning they must have instilled in him when he served his eight weeks in Corrections, after he’d run away.”

Jeff frowned. “So what are you saying, that he ran away to a beach?”

“I don’t think he  _ran away_  at all,” Daniel shook his head, “At least not intentionally. He was out with Malkovich at some business meeting or other, and they left him alone in the car. He thought he recognized the place; he thought he was home and he went to see for himself.”

“His childhood home?” Cate asked him, it made sense that that would be the thing that Brian would break the rules for.

Daniel nodded.

“So he went looking for his family, did he find them?” Jeff asked.

Cate knew the answer to that one. “No.”

“He said the apartment block where they’d lived had been demolished. By this time he was too scared to ask anyone so he went to the beach, he said he used to spend a lot of time there with his dad.”

Cate nodded. “We’ve talked about his family a little. I knew he hadn’t seen them since he was taken to the Commerce School.”

“Did he say where they lived?”

“No and to be honest I don’t think it’s something I remember reading in the file.”

“They didn’t include addresses on the print copy back then,” Jeff told her. “They were more concerned about that kind of thing being secure. The law on slave disclosure changed about ten years ago, including addresses is standard practice now.”

Daniel nodded. “I was going to say that Jake’s details are all included on his provenance file. Will Brian’s details be on the computer file?”

“The full one, yeah.”

“You want to know if Brian was right, if he really did recognize his home, don’t you?” Cate asked Daniel.

“Don’t  _you_?”

She nodded.

“The irony of it is,” Daniel continued, “That if he was right then all the time he was with Malkovich, on his Massachusetts estate, he was only an hour away from his family.”

Cate frowned, the thought as disturbing to her as it clearly was to Daniel. She had to know if Brian had been right. “I’ll go and get my car keys, I shouldn’t be long…”

“I remember the number.”

All eyes turned on Jensen who flushed deeply.

Jeff raised a curious eyebrow. “You remember Brian’s slave I.D?”

“It’s still in my head. I don’t recall it for any reason,” he explained hastily. “I just… do.”

“Hey, that’s okay, sweetheart,” Jeff smiled at him, squeezing his shoulder gently. “I’m just amazed that you can remember something like that.”

“I’m good with numbers,” Jensen explained, clearly reassured.

Cate gave him her own, very grateful smile. “Could you bring Brian’s provenance up for us now, Jensen?”

He nodded.

Cate scanned the file over Jensen’s shoulder. “Gloucester, his family lived in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Is that where Brian was arrested, will those details be on his file?”

“They should be.” Jensen scrolled down a little and then nodded. “There are copies of both the Corrections and the police file.” He opened the file up. “Brian was right, he was in Gloucester.”

“We know Malkovich’s main estate is in Massachusetts, does it say where, Jensen?” Jeff asked him.

Jensen studied the monitor. “Yep, it lists his main home as an estate in Cambridge, Massachusetts.”

“A fucking hour away. Christ!” Daniel shook his head. “All that time and Brian never knew.”

“Do you really think it would have helped if he did know?” Cate asked him. “Despite what the man did, I think Brian still loves his dad. From what I can gather it took him a while to settle down with Malkovich, to accept what was happening to him. If he’d known they were close by I can guarantee that he would have run away, or at least tried to.”

“But if he was at a Commerce school wasn’t that nearby?” Daniel wondered. “Wouldn’t he have known anyway?”

“They don’t send the kids to a school near their home,” Jeff told him, perching on the arm of one of the deep buttoned, leather armchairs.

Cate nodded. “Brian told me he went on a train with his father, I’m sure he said it was in the city.”

“New York City,” Jensen confirmed.

“That’s what?” Jeff calculated. “A couple of hours on the Amtrak MagLev?”

Cate pressed her fingers over her lips, pondering what they’d already found out. “I wonder… Would it be possible for us to trace his family, find out where they went?”

“I-I could probably do it,” Jensen told her. “We have his father’s name here and a starting address…”

“Please,” Cate looked from Jensen to Jeff. “Can we try it, and see what Jensen can come up with?”

“Are you thinking about getting him together with his parents?” Daniel asked her.

It was something Cate knew she’d have to think seriously about. She knew, from working with Jensen, that no matter what the outcome of any such reunion might be there were still enormous issues involved. Brian had already made it clear to her that he was uncertain how he should feel about his family, that he was torn somewhere between loving them and hating them for what they’d done. She’d come away from that particular conversation with the impression that he still loved his father, and now the fact that he’d tried to find them back then, not even considering the risks involved, made her even more certain of that. A reunion of some kind could be a good thing for Brian, but it could just as easily be a disaster.

“Not straight away, he has enough to deal with right now, but it is something I’d like to look into. Do you know anything about Jake’s parents?” she asked Daniel.

“She was a household slave for Lady Shirley MacLaine, still is as far as I know. Jake was born there, had a pretty cushy life for a slave until the pennies started to pinch and her Ladyship decided to trim her household. She sold him on to Lord Nicholson, the two of them had been friends for years.”

“What about his father?” Jeff wondered.

“Officially unknown but I know that Jack, Lord Nicholson, always thought Jake was Lord Beatty’s, apparently he was always sniffing around his sister’s slaves.”

Cate had met Lord Beatty. There were similarities between him and Jake when she thought about it, in temperament as well as looks.

“Jake’s been lucky,” Daniel admitted. “I’m not sure he realizes just  _how_  lucky. He can be erm...”

“A pain in the ass?” Jeff offered, a smile on his face.

“You noticed that, huh? My fault, I’m too fucking easy on him at times. If he starts giving you grief…”

“I think Sam’s ready to kick his ass, seems the kid has a thing for older women?”

Daniel groaned. “Sorry, Jeff, mate. I’ll speak to him…”

“ _Hell_  no,” Jeff grinned. “Leave him to Sam.”

“You sure?”

“ _Oh_  yeah.”

“Cate,” Jensen spoke up from his seat at the computer. “You need to take a look at this.”

“You’ve found something?” She leant in to peer over Jensen’s shoulder.

“Joseph Green, Brian’s father. I found his obituary.”

“Oh no.” She struggled to read the monitor without her glasses. “What does it say, Jensen?”

“Joseph A Green, unemployed fisherman, was killed outright in a traffic accident while crossing the street…” Jensen stopped reading and looked up at her. “It happened in New York, just half a block away from the Commerce school. I checked the date, the seventeenth, it was the day he took Brian there.”

“Christ.” Jeff’s warm, heavy hand gently squeezed her shoulder.

“The poor bastard.”

Cate wasn’t sure if Daniel was referring to Brian or to his father. You had to wonder how heartbroken the man must have been after leaving his son at the school, knowing what his fate would be. Certainly upset enough not to be thinking about the roads and the traffic.

“Did you uncover anything about the rest of the family; his stepmother, and his brother and sister?”

Jensen nodded. “I traced them too, it wasn’t difficult. Brian’s father and stepmother weren’t married.” He opened another browser window for her to see. “Her name was Margaret McCready. She was served with an eviction notice and a notice of debt just two weeks after he was killed. There’s a failure to pay noted here,” he pointed out. “Commerce took all three of them in settlement of bad debts.

“But they sold Brian,” Daniel pointed out. “Wasn’t that enough to cover what they owed?”

Jeff shook his head. “Because they weren’t married Brian wasn’t actually related to her. His stepmother wouldn’t have any legal entitlement to the money and it would only have gone to the siblings if Green was recorded as their father on the birth certificates.”

“They’re both registered as McCready’s,” Jensen told them.

“So what will have happened to the money?” Cate wondered.

“It will have been paid to the father’s closest relative. Commerce is pretty efficient when it comes to tracing people.”

“So who got the money?” Daniel wondered.

“I don’t suppose it really matters,” Cate told him. “I can’t see that finding out would do Brian any good.”

“Actually, it might be worth putting your lawyers on it,” Jeff told her. “If no one was paid out after the father’s death then it could mean that Brian’s contract is invalid.”

“Really?” Cate couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Don’t build your hopes up but there are more recorded cases than you might think.”

“Hang on a minute, you’ve lost me here,” Daniel was clearly confused. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It could mean that the enslavement is illegal,” Jeff explained. “That they’ve enslaved a free man. Commerce would be liable for compensation and so would the owners.”

“Why the owners?” Daniel asked him. “Surely they bought their slave in good faith?”

“I don’t remember the ins and outs of the whole thing but I’m pretty sure the owners were sued for physical and emotional cruelty.”

“Bloody hell, I’d never heard that before.”

“Not something that’s advertised too much and the cases are usually settled out of court. Approach your lawyers, Cate, tell them what you know and have them look into it. Tell them you’re concerned about a possible compensation claim. You’re in the first weeks of ownership, so it’ll be seen as a sensible move on your part, no matter what the outcome.”

Cate nodded. “I’ll set up a meeting for immediately after the holiday.” She turned her attention back to the computer. “What happened to Brian’s stepmother and the children, Jensen?”

“I’ve been looking,” he told her. “They were originally sold as a family group to an agency but they were only together for a few months. The daughter, Leanne, was sold off to a clothing manufacturer, she’s listed as highly skilled now, she’s owned by an agency in Chicago. The boy, George, was sold as farm labor. He’s had quite a few owners. Lord Malkovich’s estate held his contract for a while, he’s in Iowa. Margaret McCready died six years ago in Alabama, she was still owned by the cleaning agency.”

Jeff sighed. “You gonna tell Brian?”

~0~

Cate was still considering her answer to Jeff’s question as she made her way over to the kennels. A part of her wanted to spare Brian this, but from their all too few conversations she felt that Brian needed some kind of closure. He had clearly loved his father, seen him as the kind of hero all little boys should. Even after he’d been sold, throughout his time in Commerce School, he’d clung to the belief that his dad would come for him. It had taken Lord Malkovich showing him the bill of sale to break that belief.

Cate doubted that anything would have changed for Brian if his father had lived, but perhaps telling him what happened to the man would give that little boy back his hero.

The kennel says a lot about Jeff Morgan and his soft spot for strays. What must at one time have been a stone built barn had been converted to house a motley collection of dogs and cats together with a pig and a goose, amongst other things, both bought to grace the Christmas table some years ago, both they remained plump and healthy.

She found Brian in one of the dog pens. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor petting a clumsy ball of thick, black fur, a small but soft smile on his face that Cate recognized as the same one she’d seen when he was watching Ryzer on Christmas Day. She watched for a while until the puppy noticed her and gave a little yip.

“Who’s this?” Cate asked him, coming to kneel beside him and pat the pup.

Brian shrugged. “He doesn’t have a name, not officially.”

Cate smiled. “Unofficially?”

“He’s part of a litter of seven. Master Morgan told Jared not to name them because they can’t keep them all.”

Cate chuckled. “That’s a little like asking the sun not to shine.”

Her comment surprised a larger smile out of Brian.

“So, what’s this one called?”

“Elliot. He’s been sick so they have to keep him apart from his brothers and sisters. He’s okay though,” Brian assured her, and he glanced up, meeting her eyes briefly. “Getting better.”

She nodded. “Where’s Jared?”

“Feeding the others.”

“Daniel spoke to me; he told me what happened when you ran away.”

He met her eyes again; his own wide and filled with that intensity that made them so beautiful. “I won’t run away again,” he told her, sincerely.

“The thought that you might never occurred to me, Brian. From what Daniel’s told me I don’t think you were really trying to run away back then, were you?”

He shook his head. “I never meant to.”

“I didn’t think so.” She reached up and stroked her fingers through the hair that curved around his ear.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked her.

Cate nodded, sitting down. “I need to tell you something. It’s not an easy thing for me to tell you and it won’t be easy to hear, but I think it’s something you deserve to know, need to know…”

Brian listened, not saying anything, his attention focused on the dog he continued to pet. When she finished talking she remained beside him, not pushing him to say or do anything, just stroking his hair. After a while he leant into the touch, leant in to her and she wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close.

They sat there for a while in silence, the only sign of how Brian was feeling evidenced by the rise and fall of his chest and the occasional hitches in his breathing. Asking him if he was okay seemed ridiculously redundant.

“I’m sorry, Brian.” She placed a chaste kiss on his forehead only to have Brian angle his head, clearly chasing the kiss. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, meeting hers with a desperate intensity. She caressed his cheek with her fingers before leaning in, kissing him, giving him the physical comfort he clearly needed. It was a gentle kiss, tender and slow, she let Brian be the one to break it. 

“It’s hard t-to remember,” he told her, his voice little more than a gruff whisper as he continued to pet the dog, his hands trembling.

“What is?” she asked him.

He frowned, his brow creasing. “What they looked like. Why is it so hard, because of the drugs?”

Cate sighed. “I doubt its helping, but it just becomes harder to remember the way people look over time. I can barely remember the way my grandmother looked,” she admitted. “Not without looking at a photograph. “

“I wish… I wish I had the photograph, he put it in my bag for me that day, the one of him and my mom, my real mom.”

“Is that the one you told Jared and I about?”

He nodded. “They took everything at the Commerce School, even your clothes, you never saw them again.”

It was cruel, horribly cruel, taking children away from their families, denying them any kind of link with their old lives, but she could see the logic behind it. She supposed it could even be argued that it made the transition to slave easier for the children.

“Tell me what your dad looked like,” Cate urged him. “Describe him, the way that you remember him.”

“Tall,” he told her. “Or maybe he just seemed that way. Dark hair,” his brow creased. “My color.”

“Was his hair short like yours?”

“No, it-it was long, dark though, like mine…”

They sat there for an hour or more as Brian spoke quietly about his dad, his family and trying to find them again, his words halting, his voice hoarse at times, a reflection of how little he usually spoke. Jared came in to take the pup Elliot to be fed, coming back later to sprawl some distance away, his back to the wall. Cate gave him a grateful smile for having the sense not to leave them. She can see the shaky tiredness in Brian and wasn’t sure he was up to the walk back to the house, not without some help. 

He was exhausted when they did get back, they both were.

~0~

“No.”

Cate stirred a little, not sure how long she’d been asleep, unwilling to open her eyes and much too comfortable to want to move.

“No,  _don’t_.”

She woke a little more, aware of the voice from beside her.

“Brian?” She rolled over to see what was wrong, guessing it was a nightmare. They hadn’t been too bad since they’d been at Jeff’s. The few Brian had had she’d been able to sooth away quickly.

“ _Don’t_ , d-don’t do that to me, please.” He was getting louder.

“Hey, come on, Brian, it’s okay.  _Ssh_.” She reached out to rub at his arm, surprised when her hand was knocked away at first touch.

“No!  _Please_ , please don’t.” He was moving now, agitated.

Cate leaned over and flicked on the lamp. Brian was struggling on the bed, pulling at the bedding as though he was trying to get away from something, or perhaps someone, in his sleep. His eyes were wide open and filled with fear.

“Brian, it’s okay, it’s just a dream.” She tried to reassure him, hoping her voice would penetrate the dream, soothe him. “Go to sleep, Brian.”

“I’m s-so sorry, I’m sorry.  _Please_ , please don’t, please.” He was begging over and over, voice loud and more afraid than she’d ever heard him.

“Ssh, Brian.” She tried again, leaning over to gently stroke his hair.

“ _NO_!” 

He screamed the moment she touched him, body shooting upright. He scrambled back in the bed, pressing against the leather of the headboard, his eyes wide, breathing ragged and panting.

“Brian, are you with me?”

His eyes flickered to hers and she saw him swallow, nod as he pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

“Just a dream,” she told him quietly. “Just try to…”

There was knocking on the bedroom door.

“Cate?” It was Jeff’s voice. “Everything okay?”

“A nightmare, we’re okay,” she called back. She heard footsteps, other voices before the rumble of Jeff’s deep bass quieted them.

“Slow, deep breaths for me, Brian, try and relax, that’s it.” She watched as he struggled to do as she asked. “Can I touch you, would that help?”

The nod was a little more certain this time and Cate moved to sit closer as he lowered the defensive wall of his knees, facing him she started to rub slow, gentle circles on his upper arm, watching as his breathing calmed.

“Better?” she asked him, after a while.

He nodded again, biting at his bottom lip. “S-sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, don’t worry. Tell me what you were dreaming about.”

“L-lord Malkovich,” he told her, eyes dropping from hers to his hands as they fidgeted nervously in his lap.

“Was it the dream you’ve had before, about leaving the Escrow house?” Of all the nightmares Brian had, it recurred most often, at least of those he could remember or was willing to talk about.

“No, it was…” He paused, lip trembling a little, his breathing speeding up.

“Take your time, Brian, it’s okay.” She let her hand trail down his arm, find his hand and hold it, pleased when he squeezed hers a little, his thumb stroking lightly over the back of her hand.

“After Corrections,” he said, quietly, “He… He was angry.”

“Was this just in the dream, or…”

“I was dreaming about w-what happened.”

Cate nodded. “So he was angry with you for running away?”

“H-he’d lost his temper with me b-before but never… He’d never been s-so angry. I knew. I was afraid to go back because I knew but I-I thought that it would stop, that he would…” Brian shook his head. “Nothing I did was right,  _nothing_.” The hand that wasn’t holding hers scrubbed ineffectually through his hair. “I tried to please him, worked hard, t-tried not to think a-about the things he was doing to me.” He let out a gasping sob.

“Can you tell me about the things he did?”

“Please, please don’t make me say, please L-La… C-Cate.”

“Hey.” It was distressing to see him like this, and she couldn’t help wondering what Malkovich had done, how bad it had been for him to be so reluctant to tell her. “ It’s okay, Brian, you don’t have to tell me  _anything_  you don’t want to.”

“It never stopped. No matter what I did, how hard I t-tried, it just got worse and I couldn’t- make-it-stop.”

An uncomfortable realization suddenly occurred to Cate. “Brian is… Is that why you tried to kill yourself?”

His nod was reluctant, nervous. “I remembered Lady Nicoletta talking to Lord M-Malkovich, her sister had t-tried. He said she’d just been looking for attention; that she’d not really tried to k-kill herself. He said that to be effective the cuts should have been down the wrists,” he studied his own scars. “Down and d-deep, not across, I r-remembered him saying, telling her how it should have been d-done and I… I couldn’t even do that right! I d-didn’t…”

“Ssh!” She pulled his unresisting body into hers, holding him close. “Oh Brian, I’m so sorry,  _so_ sorry.” She buried her face in his neck and rocked him as her own tears came. “How can we justify this, how can we let it happen?”

~0~

Jeff found Cate in the hallway, as she stood outside the kitchen. His large, warm hand slipped around her waist as he planted a kiss on her cheek. She was checking up on Brian, still worried about him after last night’s nightmare. She’d allowed him to help Sam and Jensen prepare the food for tonight’s New Years Eve party, knowing that he needed something to do and that neither one of them would push him too far. Both of them were good with him. Sam’s particular brand of gruff affection seemed to put Brian at his ease in the same way Jensen’s calm, quiet demeanor did. She still felt the need to check up on him though.

“He okay?” Jeff rumbled.

“Not too bad, considering. Daniel gave him a pretty thorough check up this morning. He’s going to schedule some tests at the clinic for as soon as he can, once we go home.”

“That was one hell of a nightmare.”

“I’m sorry for waking everyone, even Sam heard him. It didn’t frighten Bodhi did it? I know Ryzer woke up…”

“Hey,” he squeezed her a little tighter around the waist. “Bodhi was fine Jensen checked on him last night, he didn’t wake up, didn’t hear a thing. Even if he had you’re not at fault, Cate, and Brian certainly isn’t. No one was upset, We were just concerned for Brian.”

She tore her eyes away from Brian to look over her shoulder at Jeff. “I need him to be covered by the trust, Jeff. I don’t want him to ever have to face going back to Roche or some bastard like Malkovich, he needs to be safe.”

“I understand. We talked about it this morning while you and the doc were with Brian and Chad got that pain-in-the-ass kid out of the way.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Jake?”

“I have a whole  _host_  of other names for him, but  _yeah_ , Jake,” he shook his head. “About the meeting… I know Danny’s a friend of yours and I  _truly_  like the guy, but…”

“I know,” she assured him, knowing just what he was going to say. “Even if you wanted to include Daniel in this the risk to the trust would be too great. His circumstances; being British, he’s under way too much scrutiny.”

“I’ve been meaning ask you about that, what’s his story, what’s he doing here, Cate? I mean, it’s clear he’s anti-slavery, so why the hell is he living  _here_?”

“It’s quite a story, I can’t believe I never told you,” she admitted.

She felt rather than saw Jeff shake his head. “Never said a word.”

Cate had been surprised herself when Daniel first told her his history. “He’s a member of the British aristocracy; the Marquess of something or other, I forget the exact title. His father is Lord Craig, he’s the leader of the House of Lords and he’s a close personal friend of the King. The family has a stately home in England, a castle in Ireland...”

“Well  _hell_ , does that mean I need to break out the good wine tonight?”

Cate laughed. “Let’s not start the whole beer and pretzels thing again, okay?”

“’Kay,” he chuckled against her ear. “So why is Danny over here?”

“Because of his mother. Her name was Persephone, Lady Vernay du Luart; a member of the French Nobility and  _very rich_. She went to a fancy finishing school, did the whole celebrity debutante thing. Her marriage to Lord Craig was all over the European media at the time. It appeared to be a fairy tale romance, and they seemed the perfect couple, always in the news,” she explained. 

“They had two sons, Daniel being the youngest. Everything seemed rosy until she suddenly packed up and returned home, to France. The British media were the ones to track her down. She was shacked up with an old boyfriend, a struggling musician. It was a huge scandal at the time, Persephone claimed it had been an arranged marriage. She said she’d tried to obey the wishes of her family but couldn’t continue any longer in a loveless relationship. 

“The media just ate it up. The huge amount of publicity did the boyfriend a lot of good, his band became famous in Europe, and despite all the embargos they became incredibly popular here in the US.”

“Wait a minute,” Jeff turned her in his arms, his expression excited. “You say his mother’s name was Persephone,  _the_  Persephone? This band; are you talking about Etienne Dupuis’  _La Nuit_?”

Cate nodded, smiling at him. “I forgot you were such a music geek.”

“Christ, Cate, you don’t have to be a music geek to have heard of La Nuit, they were the voice of their generation. Even my mom claims to have been a fan, she swears she cried when she heard Dupuis had OD’d. Persephone, the song he wrote about her, is one of my mother’s favorite songs. Did you ever see the documentary movie George Marks made about Dupuis?”

Cate shook her head. “Daniel mentioned it but I’ve never seen it. Marks was an old friend of his mother’s.”

“Dupuis was a brilliant musician,” Jeff told her, warming to the subject. “Intelligent, talented, great looking guy but you could see in the movie that he was self destructive, y’know? Persephone was all kinds of beautiful, so delicate, all long blonde hair and these huge saucer eyes. I can’t believe she was Danny’s mom, though now I know I can see the resemblance.”

“Does that make Daniel one of the cool kids?” she teased.

“Fuck yeah! You think I’m impressed, wait ‘till I tell Jer he’s a  _huge_  fan. La Nuit did some early experimental recordings on a vinyl records, one of those records came up for auction about five years ago, Jer  _still_  won’t tell me how much he paid for it. When I was a kid I wanted to be as cool as Dupuis, find myself a woman like that. Still do…Well, except for the woman part.”

Cate grinned, shaking her head. “The way Daniel tells it their lifestyle wasn’t as romantic as the movie and most of the stories about them, made out. Dupuis and his mother were addicts, drugs, booze, you name it. The two of them lived in squalor, Dupuis was filthy and emaciated when he died, so far gone he couldn’t look after himself and wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it. 

“His mother had always tried to keep in touch with her sons, but the family had enough influence to make certain she had no chance of custody. After the divorce she didn’t even have access. His elder brother didn’t want anything to do with her, but Daniel loved her. He and his father have never really seen eye to eye on anything. He didn’t want his son to go to medical school and become a doctor, didn’t like his friends, you know the kind of thing. His mother was the one who encouraged him to go his own way. 

“Persephone stayed on here in the US after Dupuis died, remarried a couple of times. I think he said she lived with George Marks for a while, but she was never well, never managed to kick the booze. Daniel came to live over here when her health started to deteriorate, he took care of her for a couple of years up until she died, by that time he’d made a life for himself here and applied to stay.” 

“I’m surprised they let him.” Jeff admitted.

“I don’t think anyone was more surprised by it than Daniel himself, but I don’t think there was very much left for him at home and it had to be a bit of a coup for the US administration to have the son of Lord Craig living here.”

Jeff nodded. “I guess it would be. I like Danny, he’s a good guy, but you’re right, it’s too much of a risk to let him know about the trust.”

Cate nodded her agreement, turning back to watch Brian in the kitchen. “You said you had a talk about Brian this morning?”

“Yeah, we did. Nothing serious, we were just saying that after all he’s been through he deserves some kind of security. We agree with you Cate, he should never have to go back, go anywhere he doesn’t want to.”

~0~

Cate had kept a close eye on Brian all day, worried in case he suffered any after effects of his bad night. He seemed fine though, coping well with the day and he’d had an undisturbed rest during the afternoon, sleeping well.

Jeff had gone all out for New Year’s Eve, letting the party spill out from the sitting room onto the large deck outside. Twinkling lights and colored lanterns illuminated the deck, which was doubling as a dance floor tonight, and beyond that fires had been lit on the beach along with a large number of torches. 

She stood with Brian watching Jared, who had both of the children with him on the decking, claiming to be showing the two little boys how to dance. Jared was a natural with children, tirelessly patient; he’d already reached exalted big brother status with Bodhi. His antics on the dance floor had both children in hysterics. He’d brought a smile to Brian’s face too, something Cate loved to see. 

She had expected some kind of protest from the children when Jared scooped the two of them up, declaring it time for bed, but instead they both seemed eager.

“The boys love Jared’s bedtime stories.” She was surprised to find Robin standing nearby, even more surprised that she’d initiated conversation. The two of them had never really been friends; Cate had always had the impression that Robin was uncomfortable around her. “I don’t know how much Jeff told you, hell you might know more about it than I do, but Bodhi wasn’t sleeping too well when he first came to live here, strange place, strange people I guess,” she explained. “Jared was the one who made him forget his night terrors. I have to admit he tells the most wonderful stories,” she conceded. 

“Bodhi and Ryzer do seem to have fallen for the Padalecki charms.” 

“Jared’s a sweetheart,” Robin smiled. “I… Bodhi’s really taken to being here, you know.”

“Which is what you wanted isn’t it, under the circumstances?” Cate asked her.

Robin nodded. “It was never an easy choice but… It’s been better than I expected, he’s settled in so well.” Cate was fairly certain there was a trace of regret in Robin’s words and she could understand that to some degree.

“And what about you, how are you?” Cate asked her. “We’ve never really had the chance to talk, you and I.” 

“I’m coping.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, anything at all…” Cate offered, making the choice to leave Bodhi with Jeff, must have caused her so much heart ache. 

“Thanks, but I’m... I’m fine.” Robin pulled in a deep breath. “Well, I’m going to head up for story time, find out if Morgan the grumpy dragon can steal the magic pie from Queen Samantha.”

Cate couldn’t hold back her laughter. “Magic  _pie_?”

“Jared tends to keep himself entertained too.”

“Does Jeff know about this, I’d love to see his face?” A thought suddenly occurred to Cate. “Wait a minute, does he use  _everyone_  he knows?”

Robin smiled. “Cate was the Queen of the elves who helped the King save Prince Jensen. It’s actually one of Bodhi’s favorite stories.” Her smile had faltered a little. “He’s rather taken with Jensen.”

“Jensen is easy to like,” Cate told her.

“I’m sure he is.” The smile became brittle. “Good night, Cate.”

“You’re not coming back downstairs?”

“I offered to keep an eye on the boys, give Zach and Wendy some time together.”

Cate nodded. “That’s kind of you. Goodnight, Robin.” She watched the other woman go. Bodhi might be at home here, from what she’d observed since he first arrived at Jeff’s he was clearly a happy little boy, but she wasn’t so sure about Robin’s state of mind. She wondered if Robin had allowed her pride to guide her decisions, making life far more difficult for her than it should be. 

Cate turned her attention back to Brian, standing silently by her side. 

She gave him a smile. “Why don’t we go back inside for a little while?” She linked their arms together, the two of them making their way into the large sitting room. 

Even after living with Jeff for all this time Jensen was still very reticent to talk to Cate, and to Jeff, about what he wanted. It was a huge jump for a slave, conditioned to please a master above all else, to express any kind of personal desire. It was equally, if not more, difficult for Brian. 

According to Jeff, who was no slouch when it came to music, Brian was a very talented pianist, but Brian hadn’t mentioned the piano to her at all. Cate wanted to hear him play, wanted to know if it was something he actually enjoyed doing, but she didn’t want to force him into saying yes. Finding out if he enjoyed playing wasn’t going to be easy, it went against his conditioning. She was his mistress and Brian would say or do whatever he had to in an effort to try and please her. It might be that Jensen would have more success in finding out what Brian really thought, but Cate was determined to give it a try.

Jeff’s piano had been wheeled into the room earlier and she knew Brian hadn’t seen it, that he hadn’t been anywhere near the piano since his migraine attack a few days ago. The piano was there for Kane to play later, New Year’s Eve jam sessions being a tradition in the Morgan household. 

“They’ve moved the piano in for Kane to play later,” she explained to him when his eyes settled on it. “Jeff told me he thought you played really well; he said you’d had lessons.”

Brian nodded, his eyes riveted on the piano. “I had lessons at Commerce school and then Lord Malkovich hired teachers for me.”

“Did you like playing the piano or was it just something you were taught to do to please others?”

The question made him frown. “I-I liked playing.”

“I wanted to ask you if you’d like to continue playing?” 

“Now, my lady?”

“I’d like you to play whenever you want to.”

Brian looked at her, his expressive face showing he was clearly confused. “Play for you, my lady?”

“Only if you feel you want to,” Cate admitted. “When you played for Lord Malkovich did you like playing?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“What did you like about it?”

Brian frowned. “I-I don’t understand, I…”

“That’s okay,” she assured him. “Did you play before you went to Commerce School?”

“No, I-I’d never had a music lesson before.”

“Did you like the lessons?” Talking about Commerce School had to be easier for him than talking about Lord Malkovich.

“Yes, my lady, I was good at it.”

She smiled at him. “I’d like to hear you play.”

Cate wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting when he sat down at the piano. Kane was a surprisingly talented musician but Brian was in another league entirely, astounding Cate. He was totally immersed in the music he was playing.

“Holy shit!” Kane had come up to stand beside her, arms folded, his eyes on Brian as he played.

“Is he as good as I think he is?” Cate asked him.

“ _Hell_  yeah. You’re gonna buy a piano, right?”

“I’m actually wondering if it would be possible to find somewhere open on New Year’s Day so I can have one delivered the day we go home.”

“You go home on the second, right?”

Cate nodded.

“I know a guy. Want me to see what I can do?”

“Could you?” Cate asked him, gratefully.

“I’ll make the phone call now, he owes me a favor.”

~0~

Brian had enjoyed playing for Lady Blanchett. The rush of memories he’d had last time he played didn’t return and he lost himself in the music instead, music he hadn’t played in such a long time. He could see the notes in his head as easily as if the music were right there in front of him. He’d been surprised when he’d heard clapping at the end, even more surprised to find Sam, Master Morgan, Dr Craig, Jensen, Master Sisto and his body slave, Misha, standing with Lady Blanchett.

Her smile had been so broad and it felt good to be able to do something that he was certain had pleased her. 

A little later they‘d gone to sample some of the buffet he’d helped to prepare before going back outside. 

People were dancing on the deck and Brian sat on the edge watching Lady Blanchett as she danced with Master Morgan. 

“So, you’re the horse, huh?”

The soft, slightly slurred, voice surprised him. It belonged to Dr Craig’s body slave, Jake. Brian had noticed him, it was difficult not to. He was tall and lean, with that almost androgynous look so common in many of the teens he had seen come through Roche. The boy was beautiful, with the too large eyes of some spoiled cat and a full, pouty mouth, his hair mousy, carefully tousled to make him look as though he’d just stepped out of bed. He took a pull on the bottle of beer he was holding in long, slim fingers, before sitting down, none too steadily, next to Brian.

“I don’t get that, man, y’know?”

Brian stared at him, uncertain of the question and of the boy himself. “What don’t you get?”

“A Horse, right? I mean, how could you let them do that to you, dude?”

“ _Let_  them?” Brian shook his head, unable to hide his surprise at what the boy had said. “Do you think I had some kind of choice?”

“Jus’ saying you could have resisted, man, y’know.” 

Brian frowned. “They make sure you’re in no condition to resist.”

“Yeah but,  _dude_ , you musta…”

“How many beers you had kid?” Brian looked up, surprised to see the man Kane standing in front of them. The man was glaring but the glare was aimed at Jake, not at him. “Pretty sure your master said something about you having a three drink limit.”

“I do what I like,” the boy said, with a confidence Brian had never heard before from a body slave.

“So your master lets you do what you like, huh?” Kane asked him, his country drawl seemed pronounced and harsh in contrast to the boy’s soft tones.

“Yeah.” Jake smiled, but the self confidence slipped a little as Kane stepped into the boy’s personal space, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“I know about you, kid,” he told him. “ _You_  don’t have any fucking idea what it’s like to be a body slave, yet you think you can tell Brian here how he should have reacted when he was a Horse.” He shook his head, his expression one of disdain. “Get lost kid, no one has the time or the patience for your kind of shit.”

“I don’t have to do anything  _you_  say.” Brian had to admire the boy’s nerve. Kane was much shorter than Jake but the man was intimidating.

“No.” He gave the boy a smile that was less than pleasant. “You don’t, but if you don’t, I’ll kick your ass, and I’ll keep on kicking your ass ‘til you stop talking out of it. Then maybe for laughs I’ll tell Jared, the big guy down there on the beach, to kick your ass, then Chad. Then maybe I’ll tell my master what a little shit you are, tell him how you think you’re allowed to do anything you like, maybe I’ll suggest he give Commerce a call, tell  _them_  you’ve never been fucked.”

“You wouldn’t do that!” Brian didn’t think Jake looked too certain. “My master is…”

“Your master means nothing to me kid and neither do you. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”

Jake only hesitated a moment before getting to his feet and walking away.

Brian looked up at Kane. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Kane shrugged. “The kid’s been driving everyone crazy since he got here -- he’s a pain in the ass.”

“Would you really have suggested Master Morgan report him to Commerce?”

Kane gave a small smile, sitting himself down in the spot Jake had vacated. “Not that Jeff would consider it, but honestly, I wouldn’t report a dog to those bastards let alone a wet behind the ears kid, I just don’t have the energy to kick the little fucks ass.”

“Is it true, he’s never been fucked?”

Kane nodded. “Hard to imagine, huh? I was on my fifth master by the time I was his age.”

Brian’s eyes widened in surprise. “Five?”

He nodded. “Commerce took me when I was eleven, sold me to Lady Marlee when I was twelve, she was decent, never touched me, she…” Kane looked away, biting at his bottom lip. It was a while before he spoke again but Brian didn’t say anything, he knew that sometimes there were things that you just couldn’t voice out loud. “Long story, but I ended up back in Commerce, sold to my first real master when I was fourteen.”

“A good master?”Brian asked him.

“No, but I’ve had worse,” His gaze settled back on Brian. “His name was Paul Reubens, the fucker had a thing for fresh meat.”

Brian wasn’t sure what that meant and it must have showed.

“He liked virgins,” Kane explained, the lazy drawl that had colored his voice all but disappearing. “He had a contact at Commerce who picked them out for him. Once he’d… When he was done with me he sold me on. I’d just turned fifteen, man, fifteen was a  _bad_  year.” He rubbed hard at the centre of his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Real fucking bad!”

“Why are you telling me this?” Brian asked him. “You don’t like me.” He’d made that clear enough at the Christmas Eve dinner.

“I don’t even know you, man, I just… I wanted to explain about the other night, the way I acted…” He sighed, dragging his fingers through his overly long hair. “I don’t usually do this caring and sharing shit, okay? Hell there’s enough of that around here as it is.” The drawl was back, though not as thick as it had been. Brian wondered how much of it was real and how much the man used it. “Truth is,” he continued, “I guess you bein’ here has stirred up a whole lot of shit for me, not your fault, man. Not your fault at all.”

“I still don’t understand,” Brian admitted.

Kane sighed. “I-I’ve been so close to being you, would have been if not for Jeff, and as much as he tells me I’m safe and as certain as I am that it’s true, I can’t help thinking that this whole fucking house of cards we’re building here could come crashing down around our ears.” He looked up at Brian, the lanterns revealing the uncertainty in his intense gaze.

“You’re afraid,” Brian realized. 

Kane nodded. “In ten years I had eight owners, two of ‘em in one fuckin’ year. I’m not beautiful, I know I’m not ugly but I was never that Jake kid, never even a patch on Jensen and I was never any good at the whole humility thing, y’know? If Jeff hadn’t hung onto me I’d have been a horse by now, or worse. I’ve always known that. It scares the fuck out of me that it still might happen, that no one can tell me that it won’t.”

“You’re saying you don’t want to be me?”

“I’m saying I don’t think I have the  _strength_  to go through what you must have been through, man. You’ve dealt with shit I’m too fucking scared to  _think_  about. Last thing I wanted that night was to make you feel bad, I just… I couldn’t deal with all the stuff going on in my head.”

“Maybe we’re a pair then,” Brian told him quietly.

“A pair?” Kane frowned, the look curious rather than disapproving.

He sighed, folding his arms to hide the shake that had began in his hands. “Being a horse is easy enough. You do what they tell you to, no questions, no thinking, the drugs take care of that. They teach you that a horse is all you are, all you’ll ever be. You don’t have a name, I couldn’t even remember it, not until Lady Blanchett said,” he admitted, unable to look at Kane. “I know there were flashes of things from before Roche but… I couldn’t put any of it together, couldn’t concentrate long enough or hard enough.” He shrugged. “I’m out of there now and I  _know_  that this is better but…”

“But?” Kane coaxed him, his voice quiet.

“I’m still scared most of the time like I was back there. I used to know what to do but now I don’t. I couldn’t remember anything and now I remember too much and I don’t know if I want to, if I can deal with it all.” He looked up at Kane. “Maybe we’re all scared; you, me, that Jake kid…”

Kane snorted out a laugh. “Maybe we are. Not a whole lot we can do about it, is there?”

“No, trying to do something about it just makes things worse,” Brian rubbed at his wrists through the sleeves of his sweater, he was certain of that at least.

“I could use a drink,” Kane told him. “You want one?”

“I’m not permitted,” he knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words were out.

“Why the hell not?” Kane demanded.

“Medication,” he remembered.

“Well  _that_  sucks!”

“What sucks?” Brian looked up at Lady Blanchett’s voice. 

“I was thinking Brian and me could use a beer,” Kane told her. 

She gave Brian a smile. “As much as I’d like to say yes…”

“Meds,” Kane gave her a nod. “Brian said. I’m gonna go grab one for myself. You want a drink, Cate?”

“I’m fine, Christian, thank you.”

“What about you, Brian, you want a soda or something?”

He shook his head, fairly certain he’d already put one glass of soda down somewhere without drinking it. “No, thank you.”

Kane nodded. “I’ll catch you both later.”

Lady Blanchett stroked his arm, softly. “Everything okay?”

He nodded again, smiling a little because he knew that it pleased her. “Yes, my lady.”

“Are things better with Kane?”

“I think so,” he admitted.

“Come and take a little walk with me, tell me what you think of him.”

When he stood up she slipped an arm through his and they started to walk around the large deck and down towards the beach. He wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say about Kane or why she’d asked the question. He thought about his answer carefully before he spoke.

“He’s had a lot of Masters.”

She nodded. “He has.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He wasn’t sure if it was. A lot of people seemed to think that his having only one master, up until to now at least, wasn’t good.

“It’s not good for a body slave,” she explained. “If they have a lot of owners over a short period of time, the way that Kane did, it leads people to believe that there’s some kind of fault with that slave.”

“He was Master Morgan’s body slave?”

“He used to be, yes.”

“But Jensen’s his body slave now?”

“Kane works as Jeff’s agent and business manager. He’s very good at it and he’s much happier doing that than he was when he was Jeff’s body slave.”

Brian thought about that for a while. He couldn’t remember any slave who worked for Lord Malkovich being given a job that made them happier. They were expected to do the job they’d been purchased for, beaten if they didn’t and sold on if they continued to prove unsatisfactory.

“You haven’t really answered my question,” Lady Blanchett broke into his thoughts giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “What do you think of Kane?”

“I-I’m sorry, my lady.” He realized he’d almost totally ignored her question, his thoughts taking him off at a tangent. “I-I think…”

She stopped their walk but didn’t release her gentle touch to his arm; her expression was concerned rather than angry. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry, Brian, I didn’t mean to worry you, I’m just curious to hear your opinion. I’m not angry because you haven’t answered,” she assured him.

He thought it through for a moment before giving her a slight nod. He found it so hard sometimes to gauge her moods and understand what she wanted from him. Being with Lady Blanchett was so different to anything he could remember from before and sometimes it confused him.

He took a breath. “K-Kane, I-I think he’s…” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that Kane was afraid but he was pretty sure that was something the man wanted to keep hidden. “I like him,” he admitted instead.

She nodded, her bright smile revealing he’d said the right thing. “Kane can be abrasive at times but he has a good heart. He’s a good man to have as a friend. You’ve made quite a few friends since you’ve been here; there’s Jensen, Jared, Sam, Kane too by the looks of it. That’s good.”

Brian remembered having friends when he was a kid. He’d even had a best friend, a heavily built boy with buzz-cut red hair and freckles, the harsh, dark kind, not like Jensen’s. He couldn’t remember his name, couldn’t really recall his features all that well but he could remember missing the other boys company when he’d first started at Commerce School. It had been hard to make friends there. Boys could be there one day and gone the next and the staff actively discouraged friendships.

Once he belonged to Lord Malkovich he didn’t really have much chance to make a friend, not at first but then… He remembered Lord Malkovich hadn’t approved of friendships, remembered it vividly.

He’d only been with the Lord for about eighteen months when Paul Walker, the new chauffer arrived. If Brian hadn’t seen the man wearing his collar he never would have taken him for a slave. He wasn’t like the rest of them. He was always very polite around Lord Malkovich and he was a good driver, a much better chauffer than the old one, Dennis Franz, had been. There had been a lot of talk about him amongst the household slaves, he’d heard one of the kitchen staff saying that Walker used to be a cop and that he was Lord Malkovich’s body guard, not just his driver. Rumors had flown around the house that the man was allowed to carry a gun. Even though he’d just been a kid at the time, Brian had recognized that for the nonsense it was; no master in his right mind was going to allow one of his slaves to be armed.

Brian could remember the first time he’d really met Walker, he remembered it vividly.

 _His Lord took his time fucking his mouth that morning, slowly but insistently making him take his cock into his throat the way they’d been practicing over the past week or so. He held Brian’s head still, not hard, Brian could have pulled away if he’d tried, just showing him what he wanted. It was hard to keep still when he was struggling to breathe. He wanted to pull off, free himself, he didn’t though, didn’t move, even when his head started to spin and there were spots of darkness in front of his eyes. He’d been punished so often this week for fighting this and the memory of the pain stayed vividly in his head today as he fought to do just what his Lord wanted._

 _He’d never been so grateful to have his Lord come into his mouth._

 _He opened wide when instructed, so Lord Malkovich could check to see that he’d swallowed, his throat raw and uncomfortable._

 _Lord Malkovich ruffled his hair then brought his fingers down to touch Brian’s throat. “Does it hurt?”_

 _“A little, my Lord.”_

 _The fingers pressed harder for a moment, adding to the pain, making Brian’s breath catch as the fear mounted that this moment might turn into one of those longer times; the times that made Brian scream and cry and beg for Lord Malkovich to stop._

 _Thankfully the press of fingers stopped._

 _“Make sure that you gargle after you’ve cleaned your teeth.” He smiled at Brian. “Well done, child, this is the kind of behavior I expect from you. Off you go now, get dressed, you don’t want to be tardy taking the breakfast things down to the kitchen.”_

 _“Yes, my Lord.”_

 _The breakfast tray was heavy with dishes this morning and Brian had to be careful as he made his way downstairs. Since he’d been there he’d dropped the tray five times and each flogging he’d received as punishment had been worse than the last. Then there’d been the extra training Lord Malkovich had put him through. He’d had to stand there with his arms out in front of him at shoulder height, palms up, the metal tea tray resting on top and carrying a single weight. It wasn’t a heavy weight, and the tea tray was nothing like as heavy as the wooden breakfast tray. He’d thought that holding it, for the specified time, would be easy, but he’d been wrong. After a while the pain in his arms would begin and slowly get worse until his arms were burning and shaking. Every time he started to lower his arms, even a fraction, the crop would whistle down and strike his bare ass or his legs. If Lord Malkovich decided he’d not done well enough then they’d repeat the exercise again the next day. The most they’d done that was five days in a row. His arms had hurt so much that week he’d barely been able to sleep._

 _There were two staircases on the route from his Lord’s bedroom suite to the kitchen and Brian was careful making his way down them but shouldering open the heavy wooden swing door to the kitchen dislodged a coffee cup from its saucer. The damn thing was rolling about just ready to fall which would be just his luck after managing to please his Lord this morning. All breakages had to be reported to the head of household and punished either by extra duties or a beating, depending on the value of the item and the carelessness of the guilty party. If Brian broke anything the Head of Household had to report it to Lord Malkovich who would punish him personally._

 _Brian had registered that there was someone sat at the huge kitchen table, eating, when he walked in, but he was too busy concentrating on the tray to notice who it was. Besides, he tried not to make too much in the way of eye contact with the other slaves unless he had to. He hadn’t wanted to look any of them in the face since…Since they’d all been there that day; his first time. They didn’t have anything to do with him either if they could help it. He guessed they all hated him after what happened to the girl, Anna. He saw her sometimes when she was cleaning, saw the scars from the beating that disfigured her face, the eye that had misted over white and didn’t work anymore. His fault, all his fault._

 _“Hey, you’re gonna lose that!”_

 _The man who’d been sat at the table shot out of his chair, somehow catching the coffee cup before it hit the tiled floor and shattered._

 _“Almost a goner,” the man told him, voice friendly, pleasant even. “Here, give that to me kid, it’s way too heavy…”_

 _The man started to take the tray out of his hands and Brian panicked, hanging onto it tightly and causing everything on it to shift and rattle dangerously._

 _“No!”_

 _“Hey, take it easy,” the man let go of the tray but didn’t move his hands away until he was sure Brian had a secure grip and nothing was going to fall. “I was only trying to help, kid.”_

 _“It’s my job,” Brian said quietly, not looking at him. “I have to do it.”_

 _“Okay.”The man backed away and out of the corner of his vision Brian saw him go back over to the table._

 _He resumed his careful walk across the room to the trolley where he sorted the dirty dishes ready to be washed before cleaning the tray himself and putting it away. He could feel the man’s eyes on him the whole time, watching him. It felt uncomfortable and made heat burn in his cheeks._

 _Part of him wanted to hang around and wait for the man to leave, rather than walking past him again on his way out of the kitchen but he knew he’d have to explain any delay in his return to Lord Malkovich and that he’d be punished if he took too long._

 _He kept his head down as he started to walk out, his heart pounding in his chest. He jumped when he drew opposite the table and the man spoke to him again._

 _“What’s your name, kid?”_

 _He debated not answering but he knew that would just make him look even more stupid. “B-Brian.”_

 _“I’m Paul. I’m pretty new here so I don’t really know who does what job. I didn’t mean to upset you.”_

 _Brian risked a glance up at the man, surprised to see that he looked like he might mean what he was saying._

 _“S’okay,” he told him, quickly, looking away again._

 _“So does that mean we can start over, be friends?”_

 _No one here had ever wanted to be friends with him before, especially not an adult and Brian didn’t really know what to say. He just nodded quickly instead, keeping his head down._

 _“Guess I’ll see you around the place then, huh?”_

 _Brian was about to say yes but the cook’s voice rang out across the kitchen before he got the chance._

 _“Brian! You should be done here, boy.”_

 _“Sorry Ms Black.”_

 _“Out of here, now!”_

 _“Yes ma’am.” He did as he was told, not wanting her to say anything to Lord Malkovich, but he stopped outside, out of sight where he could hear her talking to the man, Paul._

 _“You shouldn’t concern yourself with that boy, Walker.”_

 _“Oh come on, Claudia, no harm done. The poor kid looked scared shitless. A friendly word never goes amiss.”_

 _“Last thing that boy needs is a friend.”_

 _“What does that mean?”_

 _“It means that around here it’s best to keep your head down and your nose out of anyone else’s business, if you know what’s good for you.”_

 _Brian didn’t want to hear anymore. He raced back upstairs instead, trying not to think about what the cook might be saying about him._

 _He didn’t see the man again for days, not when he took the tray down or anywhere else around, which was kind of a relief even though Brian always found himself looking._

 _He had to do exercise every day; stretches, sit-ups, squats and he had to run. The running part had been done on the machine when he first came here, probably because he would have tried running away if he’d been allowed outside back then. Now, more often than not, he was allowed to run outdoors in good weather. He did three circuits of the house before reporting back to Lord Malkovich and having his time checked. His Lord insisted that his health was very important, which is why he ate such a healthy diet, eating everything on his plate, and why he had a daily exercise regime. Once each week, after his enema, Lord Malkovich would weigh him and record his height and measurements in a special book._   
  
__

_Every six months, when Lord Malkovich went for his regular health check, Brian had his too, visiting the optician, dentist and the doctor. It wasn’t a day that he liked very much. None of them were nice to him, in fact they barely acknowledged him at all, except to ask him questions or give him instructions. His health check took place in a separate area of the hospital to the one where Lord Malkovich went. All the patients in his section were slaves and it was always really busy. They strapped you down for everything. Seeing the optician for the first time was just kind of scary, it didn’t hurt. He didn’t like the dentist though, never had done at Commerce School. The worst part for Brian was the doctor’s exam, he hated being on show the whole time without his clothes, so many people looking at him, poking and prodding at him and giving him shots, he’d never liked getting shots either._

 _When they’d finished with him they’d escort him to the other part of the hospital, to the office of Dr Weaver, where Lord Malkovich was waiting for him. Dr Weaver was his Lord’s personal physician, she was kind of pretty but that didn’t make him like her much. The two of them would look over his results and discuss them. Each time he’d seen Dr Weaver, even when she’d visited his Lord at home, Brian had ended up with his pants off and the doctor’s gloved fingers feeling inside his ass while they talked about his development and the progress Lord Malkovich was making with him. The doctor would always look over the book at his weight, height and measurements and they’d discuss his health regime._   
  
__

_Brian thought running outside was easily the best part of that health regime. He enjoyed being outside, loved how free he felt when he ran. Lord Malkovich was pleased with him too, he was already considering increasing his laps to four._

 _“Hey, Brian.”_

 _Brian had never come across anyone else out running so he was surprised when someone slipped into pace beside him. He was even more surprised when he saw it was the man, Paul, from the kitchen._

 _“Noticed you running most days,” the man told him with a smile. “I wondered if you’d mind some company.”_

 _“Are you allowed?” Brian asked him, without thinking. “I’ve never seen any of the other slaves running.”_

 _“No one’s told me I can’t run, at least not yet.” The man grinned at Brian like he thought he was funny. “What about you?”_

 _“It’s part of the exercise regime Lord Malkovich gave me.”_

 _“Does that make you special or will I get one of those?”_

 _“I don’t know,” Brian admitted._

 _They ran on in silence for a while before the man spoke again. “How long have you been here, Brian?”_

 _“Eighteen months.”_

 _“Yeah? This is my seventh week. Where were you before you came here?”_

 _“In Commerce School.”_

 _“How old were you when you went there?”_

 _“Eight.” He asked a lot of questions but Brian didn’t mind too much. “Where were you before you came here?”_

 _“I was in a Commerce Facility for a while, before that I was a cop in a place called New Orleans. Do you know New Orleans?”_

 _Brian shook his head._

 _“You know where Florida is though, right? It’s in the south, have you seen it on a map? It’s kind of…”_

 _“Slaves aren’t permitted to look at or have maps in their possession,” Brian reminded him._

 _“That’s right, just restricted GPS. I’m not sure much of that shi… stuff from training camp stuck in my head to be honest.”_

 _“You should try and remember. Commerce always tests you when they come and do their assessment.”_

 _“They really do that?”_

 _Brian glanced over at him and nodded. “You have to score more than fifty-one percent to pass. If you fail then your master can choose to discipline and retrain you or you can be sent to Corrections for up to three weeks and then retested.”_

 _“Would Lord Malkovich send me there?”_

 _Brian wasn’t sure. “Mr Fishburne, the Head of Household tests everyone regularly. It’s part of his duties to make sure everyone passes, if you fail then he’s punished. Lord Malkovich considers nothing less than sixty per cent a pass.”_

 _“So if I don’t know this stuff then Fishburne will beat it into me so he doesn’t earn a punishment. That’s pretty harsh, man, effective but harsh.”_

 _Paul Walker ran with him for the rest of his three circuits, the two of them talking intermittently. When they’d finished he gave Brian a rough hug, kinda like his dad used to, promising to see him later._

 _Brian didn’t see Paul every day but he sometimes caught him in the kitchen when he brought the breakfast tray back. He always said good morning to Brian, giving him a wink or a grin. At other times Paul would find Brian on his run and jog alongside of him._

 _He also saw him whenever he went out in the limousine with Lord Malkovich. Paul was different then, smartly dressed and serious in his chauffeurs’ uniform. He was very respectful to Lord Malkovich, barely acknowledging Brian at all and Brian for his part never paid him any attention, concentrating instead on his Lord._

 _He’d become used to travelling kneeling on the floor of the limousine. There was a cushion there especially for his use and it was well padded and comfortable. Paul Walker was a much better driver than Mr. Franz used to be and he never lost his balance now when the limo took a sharp corner._

 _Most journeys in the limousine were for business meetings, sometimes only an hour or two’s drive to his Lord’s offices in the city, sometimes to the airport when they had to use his Lord’s jet. It was the longer journey’s that were hard, Brian often got bored and started to fidget, which irritated Lord Malkovich, who tended to work in the car; preparing for meetings or in touch with the office. It wasn’t too bad when he was allowed a book to read or when Lord Malkovich would decide to test his mental math skills or his spellings. Sometimes he’d help him with his language studies. His Lord was fluent in at least a half dozen languages and had engaged tutors to teach Brian. He was learning Japanese and Mandarin for now, but Lord Malkovich wanted him to learn Russian and Spanish too. Brian enjoyed the speaking part but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to read or write them._

 _Lord Malkovich never fucked him in the limousine. Brian was still very tight and preparing him took a long time and tended to be messy. Even with preparation he’d been torn several times and Dr Weaver had recommended more time spent training his body to accept penetration. Brian hated it. He knew better now than to fight whatever was done to him, and he tried to be good most of the time, but he knew that Lord Malkovich was disappointed in him when he cried, knew that it made him angry._   
  
__

_“I want your mouth, Brian.” It was something Brian did at least once a day but he hadn’t been asked to serve his Lord this way in the car for a while. He took his time, knowing by now what pleased his Lord, concentrating all his efforts on what he was doing when the car swerved violently and Brian found himself thrown to one side of the car, landing sprawled on his back._

 _As the limousine came to a sudden halt Brian knew, even before he dared to look over, that he’d hurt Lord Malkovich. Seeing his Lord shake out his pocket handkerchief, cursing as he did so, seeing him wrap it around himself, blood stains blossoming on the white linen, Brian knew he was in trouble. He wanted to run, open the door and run, but that would just make things worse._

 _Trying to control the shake in his body Brian did the only thing he could think of, he put himself into the prostrate position awaiting his Lord’s pleasure and hopefully his mercy._

 _He was only vaguely aware of the rear door opening, of Paul Walker’s anxious voice asking if they were alright, of his Lord demanding to know what the hell had happened._

 _He said it was a deer; they had swerved to avoid hitting a deer._

 _They’d returned to the estate, Lord Malkovich saying nothing to him during the journey. Brian had followed him in on jelly like legs when they’d arrived back at the house. Only then was he spoken to, instructed to strip and go wait in the cellar._

 _The cellar terrified him, especially when he was shut in alone to wait. Mr. Fishburne had accompanied him down there, chaining him up before turning off the lights and locking the door behind him. Brian wasn’t sure how long he waited, he knew it was hours. He’d been chained in a kneeling position on the hard, cold, stone floor, the ache in his knees quickly turning to burning pain ._

 _He could barely walk by the time Mr. Fishburne came back and released him half leading him, half carrying him upstairs. He remembered learning about the consequences of harming your master when he was at Commerce school, remembered the photographs they’d been shown all too vividly. The beating he received with the flogger was the worst he’d ever had but as he counted off the blows, thanking Lord Malkovich for every stroke, he thought about those photographs and knew it could have been much worse._

 _He didn’t see Paul Walker again for a couple of weeks. The times they’d travelled in the limousine there had been another driver and he’d had an agency emblem on his cap. Brian thought Paul must have been sold but then he suddenly appeared in the kitchen one morning. It felt good to see him again, part of him thought he never would._

 _“Hey, Brian, how are you doing, man, okay?”_   
  
__

_He nodded, surprised when he accompanied Brian as he emptied and cleaned the breakfast tray. Walker didn’t look too good, there were dark circles under his usually bright eyes and he was limping badly. Brian realized that Paul must have been punished too._

 _“I didn’t know,” Paul told him, his voice only a little above a whisper. “Didn’t realize, not really… I mean, I knew you were his personal slave but when I saw what he was making you do... I’m really sorry, Brian.”_

 _“Sorry?” He didn’t understand._

 _“For swerving the car like that. Did he hurt you?”_

 _“It was okay,” Brian told him. “It could have been worse.” He knew that for certain._

 _“Okay?” Walker ran his fingers through his thick way hair. “Nothing about this is okay, Brian. You didn’t do anything wrong, he was… How old are you?”_

 _“Coming up to fourteen.”_

 _“You’re just a child. Is he fucking you?”_

 _Brian hung his head, suddenly doubly aware of the painful stretch of the anal plug Lord Malkovich had slowly pushed inside of him that morning. “Sometimes,” He felt the heat of a blush burn his cheeks. “I’m not really g-good enough yet, I…”_

 _“Jesus!” Walker turned and walked away from his a couple of paces before turning back, both hands going up to stroke through his thick blonde hair. “When I was a cop I used to arrest guys like him for messing with kids. This is so fucking wrong! How can we have these double standards? How can we…” His voice had been rising slowly, getting louder and Brian was starting to panic._

 _“You need to keep your voice down.” He told him. “If someone hears you we’ll be in so much trouble. Please, Paul!”_

 _Walker stared at him for a moment, the look in his eyes unreadable, and then nodded. “Sorry, Brian, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was angry, but not at you.”_

 _Brian nodded but he was worried, didn’t want Paul to get himself into trouble. “You shouldn’t be angry with Lord Malkovich. We belong to him and it’s our duty, as his slaves, to serve him.”_

 _Paul’s eyes were sad but he smiled at Brian before ruffling his hair. “You better get back before you’re late. It might be a week or two before I can run with you again but I’ll see you around, okay?”_

 _“Okay.”_

 _“Are you and me still friends?” Paul asked him._

 _That made Brian smile. He hadn’t been really sure if Paul was angry with him too. “Yes,” he told him. “We’re still friends.”_

“Were things okay after that?”

Brian hadn’t realized he’d been thinking out loud until Lady Blanchett spoke to him.

“For a while. H- He was nice, always looked out for me and it was good to have someone to talk to sometimes.”

“I can imagine.” She stroked gentle fingers over his face. “Did something happen?”

Brian nodded. “We had early snow that year, really thick. I kept thinking about sledging like I used to.” He met her eyes and she nodded, let him know she was listening. “L-lord Malkovich had a video conference for the afternoon; he couldn’t get into the office because of the snow. He’d given me chores because he didn’t need me but I got through them fast. 

I-I snuck out, t-took a tray, a metal one. There was a hill away from the house, where I was sure no one would see me. The tray went really fast the first couple of times, I remember it was fun. I went around to the other side of the hill because it was steeper there, but it was too fast, I couldn’t control it, couldn’t steer and there was this huge tree.

“I don’t remember hitting it. I just remember them finding me; Paul and Mr. Fishburne. Lord Malkovich had raised the alarm when he’d finished his meeting and couldn’t find me. They’d come outside, seen my tracks and followed them.

“I was cold and my arm hurt so much, there was a lot of blood too. I remember Paul and Mr Fishburne being real nice to me, carrying me most of the way back to the house. Lord Malkovich was waiting in the hall. He was so angry, shouting at me for damaging myself. He had the crop in his hand and started hitting me with it and then suddenly he was gone. When I looked he was on the floor, blood streaming from his nose. I remember how shocked he looked. Then I realized it was Paul who had hit him. I remember him picking up the crop from the floor and starting to beat Lord Malkovich with it. He was shouting at him, swearing, calling him a coward and a pedophile…” Brian licked his lips, his mouth dry. 

“I don’t remember much more about that day, just bits. I must have passed out, woke up in the hospital. I remember being scared. I had a concussion, a broken my arm, I’d fractured my wrist, and they did some surgery because of a bad cut on my face, so it wouldn’t scar. I was there for a few days before I was ready to go back to Lord Malkovich.”

“You must have been afraid of going back.”

Brian nodded. “He came to collect me with the agency chauffer. I had to rest for a while, couldn’t do much for myself. I was bruised pretty badly and stiff, it hurt just to move. I was really frightened but he didn’t seem mad. He looked after me himself but I knew that he must still be angry, I kept waiting for him to p-punish me.”

“And he didn’t?” Lady Blanchett frowned.

“Not until the hospital said I was well enough for light duties. When he took me down to the cellar I thought I was going to get my beating. The other slaves, all of them, were down there already watching two men I’d never seen before whipping Mr. Fishburne. I had to kneel beside Lord Malkovich and watch while he explained why he was being punished: He said how Mr. Fishburne hadn’t carried out his duties that day because he’d failed to realize I was missing and because he stood back and allowed another slave to raise a hand to his master. He explained that once he’d received today’s punishment he’d be transported to a mining camp.

“He told the other slaves that every one of them would receive five strokes from the flogger and that I’d be required to watch, every time. Then they brought out Paul Walker…”

 _Brian began to cry when they brought him out and chained him up. It looked like they’d been beating him every day, his skin was just a mass of bruises and one of his arms was clearly dislocated. He screamed as they chained him up._

“Brian, do you want to tell me what happened to him, you don’t have to if it’s too painful for you.”

Brian didn’t think he could have stopped telling her if he wanted to, the words were just spilling out of him. “H-He was badly hurt already, just… I could barely recognize him. When they started whipping him he was in agony. After a while he was begging and screaming. I wanted him to pass out but he just wouldn’t. The men didn’t stop and the whips just… He was all cut up. I remember crying, begging Lord Malkovich to make it stop. I didn’t want to watch, tried to look away, but h-he made me, he said if I didn’t he’d put Anna, the girl, in his p-place. I c-couldn’t let him do that.”

“Oh Brian,” Lady Blanchett slipped her arms around him. “I’m so very sorry, that was…”She paused and Brian could see how upset she was. “What happened to Paul?”

“He was just hung there in the end, I-I don’t know if he was dead. I wasn’t there when they unchained him but I never saw him again. I wanted to ask if anyone knew but I-I was afraid to.” He hung his head. 

The other slaves hadn’t really spoken to him much after that anyway and a lot had changed. The new Head of Household had been one of the men who had carried out the punishments that day. His name was Fred Lane. Lane wasn’t the man Mr. Fishburne had been. He oversaw the running of Lord Malkovich’s estates with a rod of iron. All the slaves learned to fear him, almost as much as they feared the Lord himself. It had been a bad time. Lane wasn’t allowed to punish Brian personally, the way he did the others, but he had enough influence with Lord Malkovich to ensure Brian was as afraid of the man as the others were.

“It sounds as though Paul was a good man. He was certainly a brave one,” Lady Blanchett told him. 

Brian nodded. He’d kept to himself as much as he could after that. Even when he got older he didn’t let himself get to know any of the other slaves, never took the chance that he might lose another friend. Maybe here with Lady Blanchett things could be different.

“Are you okay, Brian?”

He nodded. “Yes, Lady Blanchett.”

~0~

They sat on the beach together at midnight to watch the fireworks. Jared had brought blankets as the night was getting cool and Cate had wrapped one around the two of them. She knew Brian was tired but they watched the whole of the fireworks display, or at least Brian did. Cate spent more of her time watching him. He’d come such a long way in just a few weeks but there was so much further for him to go and none of it would be easy. It wouldn’t be an easy road for either of them, but any doubts or regrets Cate had felt had dimished to nothing over the last few days. Brian needed her and maybe she… 

She laid a gentle kiss on the shell of Brian’s ear. “I think it’s time to say our goodnights,” she told him. 

He nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

They made their way slowly back up to the house, running the gauntlet of goodnights and Happy New Years with no lack of kisses and hugs. Brian accepted his share of good wishes along with a kiss from Sam and gentle hugs from both Jensen and Jared. 

~0~

As much as she loved staying at Jeff’s, Cate was happy to pull the car back into her own drive. After all the company and the noise of the past week, she was ready for the relative quiet of her own home. Well maybe not all that quiet anymore. She gazed over at the dog sleeping on Brian’s lap. She couldn’t have let Elliot go to another owner, not after seeing Brian with him. Jared had been thrilled of course, loading them up with everything a dog could possibly want.

She half expected the piano company truck to be waiting in the drive. Kane had worked miracles and arranged for the delivery of a baby grand that morning. What she wasn’t expecting was the gleaming black SUV parked next to the house. She hoped to heaven it wasn’t Commerce come to check on Brian, not yet.

“We seem to have a visitor,” she told him as she pulled her car over, parking and turning off the engine. It was then that she noticed the car’s registration number, recognized it as one of her parents’ fleet vehicles. “What on earth?”

As she stepped out of the car the door to the SUV opened and the driver stepped out. Seeing one of the family vehicles was a big enough surprise, but when she saw who was driving it Cate couldn’t hide her shock.

“I don’t understand, what..?”

“Good morning, Lady Cate, and a very happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year to you, Hector,” She smiled at the dapper, well dressed man.

“Your lady mother sends her love. I have a number of gifts in the car but I can unpack later. Have you had breakfast, my Lady?”

“We ate before we left Jeff Morgan’s,” she told him, distracted by the odd question. “I don’t understand, is my mother here?”

He sighed, his exasperation clear. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

Cate shook her head. “Tell me what?”

In answer he pointed at the slave collar he was wearing. It took a moment for Cate to realize that the crest on the collar was her own, not that of her parents’.

“A transfer of ownership, my Lady.”

“But…” She couldn’t believe it. Hector Elizondo had been her parent’s Majordomo for years, and he was the finest head of household they’d ever had. She knew for a fact that her parents had been offered substantial amounts of money to sell his contract.

“Your mother spoke to me of your extended household,” he nodded towards the car where Brian stood uncertainly, Elliot the dog held in his arms. “She was worried and I suggested this solution.”

“You suggested it? But, I thought you were happy with my parents.”

“Your mother and father have always been extremely kind but I’m not a fool, Lady Cate. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m getting old. Running a household as large as that of your parents is not the work for an old man. I’ve been training a replacement for a while.”

“A replacement?”

“Someone fitter, someone who will relish the hard work and do your parents proud. I felt it was time for something a little less taxing, though the thought of leaving the family was not an easy one, and at my age...” He left the obvious unsaid. “This little household of yours seemed a perfect solution, that is, if you’ll have me.”

“You know I will, but are you absolutely certain this is what you want?”

“I can think of nothing that would please me more, Lady Cate.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to introduce me to the other members of your household,” he suggested.

“Of course.” Hector followed her over to the car where Brian stood, his body language wary. “Brian, I want you to meet someone. This is Hector Elizondo, he’s here to run the house for me. Hector, this is Brian, my body slave.”

He gave Brian a gentle smile. “It’s good to meet you, young man.” His gaze rested on the dog then. “And this is..?” Hector asked him.

Brian blinked a little nervously. “His n-name is Elliot.”

Hector chucked the puppy under the chin before looking over to Cate, his smile broad. “You have the makings of an interesting household, my Lady.”

Cate nodded. “I think you may be right.”

The End.

  


 


End file.
